It's Not Babysitting
by anxioussquirrel
Summary: AU, present time. Kurt Hummel is 28 and has been living in New York for ten years now. He has a good job, nice apartment and two best friends: Sebastian and Cooper. Blaine, Cooper's 17-year-old brother, comes to spend the summer... Age-gap fic, based on a kink-meme prompt; there's no innocence kink here.
1. Chapter 1

** CHAPTER 1**

The weather was crazy. Someone up there had to have mixed up the cards in their calendar because 93 degrees in New York on an early June evening was _not_ what anyone would consider normal. The city radiated heat like an oven and Kurt cursed under his breath, feeling his shirt stick to his sweaty back as he walked the short distance for the usual Sunday evening get-together with his two best friends. At least the theater hadn't needed him to come today. He didn't even want to think how unbearable the heat must have been earlier.

He reached the door to their favorite coffee bar and sighed with relief as the air conditioning hit him. Cool, not freezing – one more reason to like the place; besides the fact that it was within walking distance from his apartment, and it served both excellent coffee and quality liquors. This last part was quite important, considering the diversity of their drinking habits.

As soon as he moved towards their usual table, a loud whoop greeted him, making other patrons look at him curiously. The barista didn't even blink, perfectly used to Sebastian's antics after three years of their meetings here.

"Only twenty five minutes late today, baby doll, not _bad_!"The tall, thin man sprawled comfortably in a plushy chair raised his glass of whiskey – always whiskey, only the best the bar had – and grinned widely.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Seb. I had an idea, I had to take notes."

"Another one? I hope you don't run out of room in that lovely head of yours one day, what with all your ideas. The usual?" Sebastian got up and stretched, revealing a strip of flat belly under his navy t-shirt. Kurt shook his head.

"Not with the weather; I'll have a frappe. Where's Coop?" A half-full cup of black drip coffee stood abandoned on the table, so the last of their trio must have been here at some point.

Sebastian gestured to the bar's side door, already walking backwards towards the counter. It was his turn to buy drinks tonight.

"He got a call from his brother. Made a face like he was constipated and fled to do his pacing outside."

As if summoned, a handsome man with a phone pressed to his ear passed by the glass door, turned around and walked in the opposite direction, talking and gesticulating wildly all along. Kurt settled into the oversized armchair they always left for him and focused on cooling his brain after the short walk.

He had just taken the first sip of his coffee when Cooper stormed back in, his hair messy – from running his fingers through, Kurt knew – and his blue eyes shooting firebolts.

"Seb, I need a drink." He dropped to his chair and pushed his coffee away with disgust. "Wait, make it double."

Sebastian whooped and stood up gracefully again. "_Finally_ one of you will drink with me. Vodka with coke again or can I tempt you into a finer liquor for once?"

"Whatever."

Cooper's head thumped against the table and stayed like this until a glass with a generous amount of amber liquid was pushed into his hand. Only then did he look up and gulp half of the whiskey in one go, before exploding in a violent coughing fit.

Sebastian shook his head but didn't comment until Cooper could talk again.

"So tell us, dear friend, what has your feathers ruffled? Daddy dearest again?"

Kurt winced. They both knew that even at 30, Cooper's relationship with his father was strained at best, so usually they kept away from the subject. But Seb's usual perceptiveness didn't fail him. Coop's face flushed with anger.

"Yeah." He drank the rest of the whiskey, sans coughing this time. "He caught Blaine with a boy – I don't know all the details, but apparently it wasn't very PG – and served him one of his patented _daddy speeches_. Kid didn't want to tell me everything he said, but I can imagine it was bad; he was pretty upset. They fought, and Blaine called to beg me to let him come stay with me for the summer. I had no choice but to agree."

Kurt felt the familiar surge of anger that always caught him when he heard about homophobic jerks; one look at Sebastian told him that he did too. At 28, they'd both learned a long time ago not to let the haters get to them, but it didn't mean they'd forgotten how it had hurt when they were teenagers. Kurt could only imagine how much worse it was when it came from your own family. He touched Cooper's arm, a comforting gesture.

"Well but that's good, right? I mean, your brother will surely be better off here with you than back in Ohio with your father." He didn't understand why Cooper seemed so upset with this development.

"He will, but I have literally no time for him – with the promotion coming through next week, the new responsibilities, not to mention the audit we're starting in July, I'll be working late into the night most days. Hell, I can't even pick him up from the airport tomorrow because I have a meeting I can't get out of. I can't let him run around New York by himself, can I? He's never been here before. He'll get run over by a cab, kidnapped, mugged, or seduced by some creeper. And he can't sit locked up in my apartment all summer. He'll need someone to show him the city, teach him the safety rules, keep him company –"

Sebastian caught on first, raising his hands in a defensive gesture as soon as Cooper paused to take a breath.

"Don't look at me, I work just as much as you do. If he needs a lawyer, I can help, but otherwise you're out of luck. Try sweet cheeks here, he's the one with weird work time."

Coop nodded and turned the pleading look at Kurt, whose eyes grew wide.

"Wait, what? No, come on – I may mostly work from home but it doesn't mean I have loads of free time. Besides, I'm not a babysitter, what I would do with a kid?"

Cooper turned on the puppy eyes. Damn him, he knew perfectly well how to soften Kurt.

"But he's no baby, he's seventeen, Kurt. Eighteen in August. He just needs some company every now and then during the week, and someone to show him how to safely navigate the city. Oh, and a ride from the airport tomorrow."

"Coop –"

"I will love you forever and ever. I will do your taxes for the rest of your life. I will –"

Kurt sighed. He knew he'd regret this, but the truth was, he'd do almost anything for his friends, and it wasn't even that much. He'd just have to reorganize his schedule a little and curb his artistic (read: _chaotic_) attitude for the days when he'd be showing the city to the boy.

"Okay. I'll do it, okay."

Cooper jumped up from his chair and pulled Kurt up for a hug. "You're the best, Kurt. Thank you! And you won't get bored, I promise, Blaine is –"

Kurt didn't hear what Blaine was like because right then he was glomped from behind, Sebastian's enthusiastic voice loud in his ear. "Group hug!"

* * *

Kurt stood in the _Arrivals_ at the airport with a large cup of extra strong coffee, feeling cranky and still half-asleep. He had already cursed himself – in English, French and bad Spanish, for good measure – for being too soft to refuse Cooper's request. In the two hours he'd been awake, he'd also cursed his iPhone for blaring the alarm at him at eight a.m., the heat that was already building towards unbearable, the cab driver for singing loudly with the radio, and the plane from Columbus for being fifteen minutes late. Most of the elaborate invectives had been muttered under his breath, of course. Kurt Hummel might have been a picture of bitchiness in the morning, but he still had class.

He hated mornings. He was a typical night bird, the extent of which he discovered once he'd started working from home as a theater costume designer, and realized how much more creative and productive he was at night. He firmly believed that his fast career rise had been mostly due to the fact that he'd allowed his brain to work on its natural schedule. For years now, Kurt had been spending his nights designing and sewing, rarely going to bed before five a.m. and usually getting up around noon. His employers – the theater on Broadway that had virtually bought him away from his previous workplace – were more than happy to accommodate his needs and only had him work with actors in the afternoons and evenings.

The need to pick Blaine up at ten in the morning meant that Kurt had gotten less than three hours of sleep. And too little sleep always turned him into a snappy, glaring creature, with a tendency for his brain to wander away without permission.

Right now, waiting for the Columbus passengers to appear, Kurt was pretty certain that this day could only get worse. With his luck, Coop's younger brother would turn out to be a loud, whiny, demanding brat, with no respect for other people's space and time, and annoying habits to boot. God, what if he listened to some awful music? Or, even worse, dressed in a way that would make Kurt ashamed to be seen with him? There had to be a reason Cooper had never invited Blaine to come to New York before, and hardly even talked about him.

In fact, the only picture of the younger Anderson brother Kurt had ever seen was a small printout of a 12-year-old boy with daisies woven into his curly black hair. He looked nice enough, but that was over five years ago. Now, Kurt rather expected to see a gangly teenager with wild curls and acne. Cooper hadn't been much help either. He hadn't visited his family home for over three years, and when asked about his brother's appearance, he'd shrugged.

"You've seen the picture in my apartment. Add a couple of years."

Very helpful, indeed.

Kurt would just drop the boy off at Coop's apartment, which was only a block from his own, and return home to get some more sleep. The city tour could wait until the weather and the hour were more acceptable.

The doors opened and passengers began to file out, but Kurt couldn't see anyone matching the picture in his head. Ten minutes later, he was still waiting. Suddenly, there was a pleasant male voice by Kurt's side.

"Excuse me – I think you may be waiting for me."

Kurt was pretty sure he wasn't, but he'd learned long ago never to say _no _to pick-up attempts without at least checking if the man was worth it. The rule had given him a few terrible dates, quite a lot of fantastic sex, and once, a short relationship. So even annoyed and impatient, he looked towards the voice. And blinked, surprised.

This was definitely one of the times he'd regret saying _no_. The man standing before him was shorter and clearly younger than him, maybe around 22, but stunningly attractive, with a handsome face and warm eyes. His dark hair was carefully styled back and he was wearing a _bowtie_ with his black polo shirt. That alone was enough to make Kurt's pulse quicken slightly. He answered the small smile on the stranger's face with his own.

"Thank you, gorgeous, but I'm actually waiting for someone. You can leave me your number though, I'll call you."

Confusion flashed through the man's features, making him suddenly look younger.

"Um, no, I mean... You are Mr. Hummel, aren't you? My brother sent me your picture last night. I'm Blaine Anderson."

Kurt felt all color drain from his face. So _this_ was Coop's baby brother?

"_Oh_. Oh fuck, um – Dammit, I'm sorry. Let's start over, okay?" He offered his hand to the man – boy, he corrected himself – with his signature charming smile. "Hi, nice to meet you. Please don't call me Mr. Hummel, okay? It's Kurt."

Some of the nerves melted away from Blaine's lovely eyes – they were completely different from Cooper's, golden like that crushed velvet Kurt had used the last bits of the other day. He took Kurt's extended hand and shook it shortly.

"Hi. Thank you for picking me up. I hope I'm not a problem. I told Coop I can just take a cab but he didn't want to hear it."

Handsome _and _polite? That didn't happen often.

"It's okay. Cooper wants me to take you to his apartment, so we'll go get a cab now. I hope he left you something to eat – he may not be back until late. If not, there are plenty of takeout menus stuck to the fridge."

Blaine nodded. "I'll be fine. I'm used to taking care of myself."

It was quiet, and Kurt felt his empathy wake up from its slumber and perk its ears. He knew loneliness – he'd studied it all too well, all the sad shades of it, when he first came to New York. And he had no doubt that this was what he heard in Blaine's voice. Now that the awkward beginning of their meeting was over, Kurt took a moment to really _look_ at the boy. It was kind of his thing – while Sebastian was brilliant at noticing details and drawing conclusions, Kurt excelled in reading emotions from people's faces, gestures and behavior. It only took him seconds to take note of the dark shadows under the boy's slightly reddened eyes, his slumped posture, the way his smile only touched his lips. Kurt felt himself soften towards his temporary charge, which was a feat, considering his morning crankiness. Still, he was surprised when he heard his mouth act before his brain did.

"Tell you what, Blaine. You could wait for Coop at my place instead, so that you don't have to sit in his empty, most likely messy apartment alone – unless you'd rather go there, I mean. But I'm pretty sure he didn't have time to call the cleaning lady between last night and now."

The golden eyes flashed with surprise. "But… I don't want to intrude."

Kurt shrugged. "You won't," and started walking towards the exit.

When Blaine reached his side again, with a guitar case over his shoulder and dragging a big suitcase, Kurt added. "I can easily make lunch for two instead of one, and when I go to the theater later, you can stay and do – I don't know, whatever."

"A Broadway theater?" The curiosity in the boy's voice was a pleasant surprise, and Kurt nodded, holding the door to let Blaine pass with his baggage. "I love Broadway! What are you going to see?"

Enthusiastic about theater, too? How come Cooper never said anything about having such a treasure for a brother? Kurt smiled; he pointed at a free cab, and they started towards it.

"Nothing, I work there – designing costumes. I have fittings this afternoon. You could come with me if you wanted."

Blaine stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, opening and closing his mouth in clear astonishment until Kurt pulled him towards the waiting cab. They got in and started towards his apartment before Blaine spoke.

"I'm sorry, it's just... a bit of a shock. I've hoped to _see_ a Broadway theater while I'm here, but I've never expected to get inside one or actually see a play! I'd _love _to go, Mr. – um, Kurt. If it's not a problem, that is."

Kurt laughed. He'd forgotten how much fun it was to see it all for the first time, when New York was all fresh and astounding. It felt nice to remember that wide-eyed delight, experience it again through this boy's reactions. Maybe showing him the highlights of the city wouldn't be a boring chore, after all.

"Of course it's not a problem, as long as you can be quiet and non-distractive. You can sit in the rehearsal, too."

"_Really_? _Wow_. Thank you!"

The rest of the ride passed in silence as Blaine took in the vast, crowded city they were driving through, his eyes huge and fascinated. In many ways, he reminded Kurt of himself when he'd first arrived in New York, excited and hopeful for good things to happen here. He was barely a year older than Blaine then. That seemed so long ago.

* * *

Blaine stole another glance at Kurt as they were waiting for the elevator. He didn't want to be rude, but he had a hard time keeping himself from staring. Kurt was just… _wow_. Insanely attractive, for one. Blaine saw it in the picture Cooper sent him, but it was nothing compared to what the man looked like in reality, with his graceful movements and expressive face. Not to mention, the picture didn't show Kurt's legs that were –

Um, okay. Enough.

Besides, it wasn't even the physical appeal that fascinated Blaine most. If he wasn't gravely mistaken, the man standing beside him was living proof that you could be openly gay and find your place in the world – have friends, flirt with people, have a career. Theoretically, Blaine knew this was possible. But with everything he so often heard from his father, and the scars that he saw in the mirror every day as a reminder of what a big part of society thought about people like him – it was hard to _really_ believe, sometimes. And assuming Kurt really was gay, he seemed like a poster boy for the _It Gets Better_ campaign.

Blaine really needed the hope, especially after the hell of the previous day.

Having his father walk in on him with his boyfriend's hand in his pants was bad enough. Even after years of being barely tolerated, he wasn't ready for the stream of insults yelled at him in his living room. Nathan fled as fast as he could, leaving Blaine alone to bear his father's rage. There was a moment he was sure the man would actually hit him, but no. Finally, he must have run out of breath or curses, because he took whatever it was he'd come home for in the middle of his workday, and left. Blaine shut himself in his room where he curled on the bed to try and calm the violent shaking.

But then the call from Nathan came. And he wasn't calling to make sure Blaine was okay – he wanted to tell him that while he really liked him, he wasn't ready to be a part of such drama, so it was best for them to break up.

This was when Blaine called Cooper. It was an impulse; desperately reaching out to the brother he hadn't talked to for over a year. Blaine didn't even remember all the things he said, rambling mess that he was; he just knew that he begged for a place to stay, away from his parents' home. It was only when he opened an email from Coop with his flight details fifteen minutes later, that he felt the ground settle a bit beneath him.

There was a way out. It was temporary, but he'd take whatever he could get.

* * *

Kurt's quiet voice shook him out of his thoughts now.

"Blaine? Hey, everything alright?"

He nodded and followed the man to the elevator. As soon as they were in, however, Kurt spoke again.

"Okay, I can see something's bothering you. Spill. If you want to, I mean."

Blaine shrugged; he could say it was nothing, but something in Kurt's earnest face made him open his mouth and spit it out.

"Are… are you gay?" Kurt looked at him as if he asked if water was wet, his right brow arched, and Blaine blushed. "Okay, sorry, I just didn't want to assume. And… Cooper knows?"

The man snorted in amusement. "Of course he does. He didn't tell you?"

"I didn't even know that Cooper was accepting towards –"

"Are you kidding?" Kurt's tone was still light, but Blaine didn't miss the flash of concerned disbelief on his face. "Both of his two best friends are gay. He even went through a week-long queer phase himself two years ago. He was so obnoxious about it that Sebastian got fed up and kissed him, which cured Coop pretty quickly. I still maintain that it may have turned out differently if _I_ had kissed him instead. Seb's kisses are like a conquering army, you need to be prepared to appreciate them."

A wink followed and Blaine couldn't stop a smile spreading on his face. Kurt made him feel so comfortable in spite of the new circumstances. He was just so damn _nice_.

Kurt tilted his head. "You and Cooper aren't too close then?"

There was a very interesting spot on the floor all of a sudden. "Not really. I hardly know him anymore."

A warm hand on his shoulder made him look up. "He's a good guy. A workaholic and a bit of a slob, but trust me, he's great."

The elevator stopped and Blaine nodded. "Thank you." Kurt's words and his reassuring smile were enough to lessen his worries.

Kurt's apartment turned out to be cozy and neat. A wall had been knocked down between the living room and the kitchen, creating a comfortable space with plenty of light streaming in through large, bare windows. Wide window seats seemed perfect to curl up on with a book.

"Seasonal depression prevention." Kurt said simply when he noticed Blaine's amazed expression. "When you mostly work nights and sleep through half of daytime, every bit of light counts, especially in winter. Juice or coffee?" He was already setting up the coffee maker. "I need more caffeine."

"Coffee please. I didn't sleep much last night." He admitted to his own surprise.

Thankfully, Kurt didn't comment or inquire.

"That makes two of us," he muttered. "How do you take it?"

"Black, sweet."

Kurt shot him an intrigued look. "So is it a coincidence that you and your brother's coffee orders are the same?"

Blaine felt himself blush. It was quite personal – and a bit silly – but he'd already opened up a little about Coop, so... why not?

"Not really. More like a memento. When Cooper last visited, I was still too young to drink coffee, but I remembered how he took it. Later, whenever I really missed him, I made myself _his_ coffee, until I just started to drink it every day. I know, it's stupid. But… he used to be my hero, you know? Before he pulled away from me."

For a brief moment his voice trembled slightly, and he was grateful when Kurt pretended he didn't notice anything.

"It's not stupid," he said, handing Blaine a spring green cup full of the steaming, aromatic liquid. "Have you ever drank it any other way, though?"

"Not really."

"It's worth trying. To figure it out for yourself – maybe you're more of a cappuccino guy? Or latte?" Kurt raised his own cup and drank deeply, the bliss on his face almost indecent.

Blaine took a sip of his coffee. It was delicious.

After a moment of silence Kurt looked at him thoughtfully.

"So feel free to tell me if you don't want to talk about it, but I heard that your parents aren't exactly supportive of your sexuality."

Blaine snorted humorlessly. That was one way to put it.

"How about school?"

Blaine shook his head. "Oh, no, school is great. I'm at Dalton Academy – it's a private school, with a zero tolerance bullying policy. I'm safe to be myself there."

Kurt smiled. He had a beautiful smile. "Good. Does your boyfriend go there too?"

It felt like a punch to the solar plexus; he should probably start getting used to talking about that, but he wasn't there yet. And it wasn't even that Nathan was that special to him – they'd dated barely over two months and if someone asked Blaine if he was in love with the guy, he wouldn't know what to say. But Nathan was Blaine's first boyfriend, and that in itself made him special. The words hurt as he pushed them through his clenched throat.

"Ex-boyfriend now. But yes. He does."

A small _oh_ escaped Kurt's lips before he said, quietly, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

It wasn't, but Kurt had nothing to do with it. Blaine was just grateful that he didn't say that his boyfriend didn't deserve him then, or any such nonsense adults liked to say in these situations. Rationally, he knew it was true, but he was far from ready to hear it from a virtual stranger. He changed the topic.

"How was it for you? In high school?"

Kurt leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee again.

"I had full support at home, but school was hell. I grew up not far from you, actually. Lima. I couldn't wait to graduate and get away from there. And I did, first chance I got. In my case, the saying that your life begins in college was true. Still, I wish I'd had an option of a school with a no tolerance policy; it could have saved me loads of… issues. Does it actually work?"

Before long, Blaine was telling Kurt all about Dalton and the Warblers, his voice animated and enthusiastic. And when they discovered that they shared the experience of being in Glee clubs and found out about their mutual love of music, the conversation flew easy and engaging until they suddenly realized that lunch hour had come and gone, and it was almost time to go to the theater.

Helping Kurt make quick pasta, Blaine realized with an amazed smile that here, in the most unlikely way he'd believe possible, he'd met the first adult who actually listened to him, treated him like an equal, and truly understood his experience. It felt wonderful; liberating. He hoped it wouldn't be his first and last day spent with Kurt, but just in case it was, he planned to enjoy it the best he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_I'm sorry if the song in this chapter stirs painful memories – it's not on purpose, I swear. This part was written some 3 months ago, so who would have guessed... Please forgive me?_

* * *

** CHAPTER 2**

Behind the closed door of his studio Kurt was cutting and pinning yards of deep red velvet, listening to the soft notes coming from his living room. Before he shut himself in here, making sure first that Blaine was okay with waiting for his brother at his place rather than Cooper's, he told the boy that he could do whatever he wanted while Kurt worked. He gave him the wifi access password and the TV remote, pointed him towards his movies and book collections – but Blaine only asked if he could use the piano standing neglected in the corner. It had come with the apartment and Kurt used to play regularly, but lately he hadn't really felt like it.

It was after nine now, and the music had been flowing for the last hour. If Kurt didn't know it was the teenager in his living room, he'd swear it had to be a recording. The boy was _good_. Some pieces Kurt knew, having played them himself, though never with such proficiency, he had to admit. Others sounded like piano interpretations of some top 40 hits and, to his surprise, songs from the rehearsal Blaine had just attended.

The kid had never heard these songs before, he'd said so himself. When Kurt had finished with the fittings and gone to get Blaine, he'd found him breathless and awed, enchanted with _everything_. The theater, the actors, the rehearsal process and the play itself. And now, Kurt could clearly recognize the melodies he knew by heart after hearing them dozens of times. The boy just improvised on them from the few times he heard them, without so much as a false note. Just another impressive thing about Blaine Anderson.

Which didn't change the fact that Kurt was currently hiding from him in the seclusion of his studio.

So far, Blaine had proven to be easy company, so the dread Kurt had felt this morning thinking about hours he'd have to spend "babysitting" was mostly gone now. They'd talked amicably all through dinner at Kurt's favorite Greek place (he'd insisted on paying this time, joking about making an exception from his "only pay on dates" rule, which made Blaine blush to the roots of his hair).

But by the time they made it back to Kurt's apartment, the boy grew quiet and kept looking longingly at his silent phone, clearly pining. Kurt understood, he really did, but suddenly he felt exhausted. No matter how good the company, he wasn't used to spending so much time with other people. Maybe he wasn't exactly a loner, but he had a very strong need for independence and time alone. When he was with someone, he always gave his all – all his attention and care, but that much focus could only be maintained for a certain amount of time. And today he was exhausted, too. So when they got to the apartment, his crankiness was close to bubbling over, and he didn't want it to explode all over the kid who did nothing wrong, after all.

That's why he escaped to his workroom. It was his _happy place_, and with the music soothing his frayed nerves, his irritation melted away bit by bit. While still tired, he got the second wind he needed.

The piano went silent for a moment before the soft notes came back, arranged into a familiar melody. Before Kurt could recognize the song, he heard a voice sing along, warm and smooth, and he stopped arranging the fabric on the mannequin and just listened, transfixed.

_You think I'm pretty without any make-up on  
You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong  
I know you get me so I let my walls come down – down…_

The popular song was softened in this version, slowed down until it was more like a ballad than a pop hit, and it sounded lovely, sung with so much emotion that Blaine's voice trembled slightly and broke in places. It had to have a special meaning for him, maybe somehow connected with the ex-boyfriend? It almost felt like eavesdropping on a private moment, but Kurt couldn't help enjoying what he heard. Blaine clearly hadn't been chosen for the frontman of his Glee club for no reason.

The last notes of _Teenage Dream _melted into silence and the apartment went silent for a long while before Kurt heard the quiet chatter of the TV in the background. He smiled to himself and sat down to begin sewing the first of three gowns he needed to get started on tonight.

* * *

The next time Kurt looked up from his sewing, it was almost eleven – pretty early by his standards, but where the hell was Cooper? His work day normally ended at six, and while it wasn't unusual for him to still be in his office at eight, doing whatever it was he did, today it was really going too far, even for him. Especially when his baby brother had just arrived to stay with him for the summer.

Kurt checked his phone, in case he missed a text, but there was nothing. Really, he'd have to kick Coop's ass the minute he appeared – the kid could really use some support from at least _someone_ in his family. Shaking his head incredulously, Kurt got up from the machine, stretched and went to check on Blaine.

The TV was still on, some mindless talk show filling the silence, but Blaine wasn't watching. Curled on his side on the couch, he was asleep, looking small and very young. Kurt sighed and took a soft red blanket from the back of the couch to cover the sleeping boy. As he was tucking it gently around Blaine's shoulders, he noticed something small and grey on the black rug and reached to pick it up. It was a little fuzzy teddy bear, not bigger than his hand. Blaine must have held it as he fell asleep. It looked new, so Kurt doubted it was a childhood memento – more likely a gift from the boyfriend; something familiar to hold onto in this faraway city, in a strange apartment.

God, the kid must feel so alone here.

Kurt remembered what it felt like to be rejected, unaccepted and called names just because he was gay. He remembered the pain of his first breakup, too (and he'd also had a memento – the guy's scarf that he'd found in his room and carried with him everywhere for weeks). But he was never without support. He had his family. And here Blaine was, having endured both rejection and breakup just the previous day – alone.

The anger that flared in Kurt's chest wasn't new, but it was hotter than usual. It was bad enough when it was about strangers, anonymous boys and girls on the news that were only connected to him by a similar fate, the fact that their sexuality (or gender identification, for that matter) made their lives that much more challenging. But now, it wasn't a stranger – it was Kurt's best friend's little brother; it was a kind, incredibly talented boy with wide golden eyes and a hunger for life; a kid who really deserved so much better than what he was getting from his own family.

And this time, Kurt's anger would find the proper recipient.

He tucked the little teddy into Blaine's half-open hand, switched off the TV and lights, went to his bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him, already choosing the number from his phone.

* * *

Cooper was on his way when Kurt called. Ten minutes later he let himself in with his set of keys – and was immediately grabbed and pulled into the bedroom, the door closing behind him like a deathtrap. Cooper knew Kurt way too well to even try to excuse himself – the steely glint in those narrowed eyes meant trouble. So he just braced himself for the explosion.

"_Cooper Evan Anderson_." Uh-oh. Full name _and_ a hissy voice? It was worse than he'd imagined. "Where the hell have you been? It's close to midnight."

"At wo-" The sound Kurt made could have easily come from an angry cat.

"Don't you tell me about _work_, Cooper. Which part of _It's almost midnight _don't you understand? Have you taken to dancing in a strip bar after hours to supplement your salary? Your younger brother has been waiting for you all day, in case you forgot."

Cooper was tired – the day had been long and demanding, only the first in a whole hard week. He really didn't need Kurt to unload his frustrations on him tonight. He sighed heavily and raised his hands in a placating gesture, annoyance slipping into his voice.

"Okay, okay, I'm taking him out of your hair right now. It's not like you had to be with him all day, you know – I told you to just drop him off at my apartment, didn't I?"

Apparently it was exactly the wrong thing to say, judging by the anger flashing on Kurt's face, intense enough for Cooper to retreat half a step. Kurt wasn't a big man, and never violent, but trying to ignore him when he was in a foul mood would be like trying to ignore a charging rhino: very unwise.

"Cooper. In the last 36 hours this kid has been verbally abused by his homophobic father and dumped by his boyfriend; he contacted his brother who hadn't talked to him for god knows how long to ask him for help; he flew to New York only to spend the whole first day here with a virtual stranger. Don't you think he needs a break? Support from his own family, maybe? He's _seventeen_, Cooper. Remember when you were seventeen? Because I do. And I can't imagine going through something like this alone."

Okay, ouch. This was poking right where it hurt. Cooper knew he was taking his usual way out – all day he'd kept busy not to think about Blaine, to push it away and deal with it later. It worked, just like not thinking about his family problems always worked. It was an automatic reaction by now, but here was Kurt, forcing him to face the situation. Trying to squirm away wouldn't work, he knew, but he tried anyway. He sat heavily on the end of the bed.

"I told you before, I have no parental instincts. I'd be the worst parent in the world. I can give Blaine a place to stay and feed him, but-"

Kurt looked at him, exasperated. "It's not like you have a choice, darling! Your brother is here and he needs more than food and accommodation – he needs _you_. So stop whining and behave like an adult, dammit. If it helps, I think the worst parent prize was already claimed by your father." He paused and shook his head. "I don't get it, why are you so distant towards Blaine? He said it hadn't always been like this and I know for a fact that you are a caring guy. So what happened?"

Cooper sighed and dropped his aching head into his hands. He wasn't proud of what he was about to say. It felt like confessing to a crime.

"When Blaine came out three years ago, I was there. At home. My father threw a massive fit, my mom looked thunderstruck, and Bee ran to his room crying. I tried to talk to them, convince them that it was fine, _make_ them accept him. It ended with a fight between me and father, the worst ever. I left that night and never came back."

"You left Blaine there alone." Kurt spoke quietly now, icily calm.

"Yes. I couldn't look him in the eye after that. I didn't know what to tell him. So I said nothing."

He could feel Kurt's warm hand on his shoulder, offering comfort he didn't feel he deserved.

"Coop. Now's your chance to change that, to be the hero he used to see in you. Did you know that until today he's been half-convinced that you disapproved of his sexuality too?"

Cooper's throat tightened painfully, the emotions he always kept at bay rushing out like an avalanche now. "God. Where is he? I'll take him home."

Kurt shook his head, his voice softer now. "He's asleep on the couch; let him be. Just make sure to call him tomorrow morning, okay? And for once, leave work when you're supposed to and take Blaine home, spend some time with him."

"I will, I promise." That would be hard, but it didn't matter. He'd make it happen. "Thank you, Kurt."

"It's okay. You really have an exceptional brother, you know? You should be proud of him."

* * *

After Cooper had gone home, Kurt only managed to sew for two more hours before his tired brain refused to cooperate any longer. He checked on Blaine, left a note on the coffee table, telling him to feel free to shower and fix himself breakfast; then he returned to the bedroom, stripped and dropped to bed, falling asleep immediately.

He woke up just after noon, feeling well-rested. His brain needed time – and coffee – to wake up fully, so Kurt pulled on a pair of boxers, stretched and wandered out from the bedroom, trying to remember what day it was and if he had any plans for today. A sharp gasp greeted him as he entered the living area. Oh, right. Coop's brother.

"Morning," he mumbled, not pausing on his way to the kitchen. Once there, he hummed with appreciation. Coffee had been freshly brewed and the divine smell was wafting in the air, so Kurt quickly fixed a big cup of his morning café-au-lait.

Halfway through the coffee, Kurt's brain began to register things – like Blaine's wide-eyed expression. The boy was blushing, clearly trying not to stare, but failing spectacularly. Kurt looked down at himself, noting his state of undress, sleepy neurons lazily connecting things.

"Oh. Sorry, I should probably put something on. Just give me a moment."

He went back to his coffee while Blaine muttered something that sounded like a choked "It's okay" and turned back to the laptop on his knees.

When the coffee finally kicked in, Kurt realized that he was standing in his kitchen naked save for his underwear, mere ten feet from a seventeen-year-old he'd only met yesterday, and not in intimate circumstances. Not that he'd ever been in intimate circumstances with a seventeen-year-old, but that was not the point. The point was – his brain, awake now, helpfully supplied – that just last night he'd told Coop that he remembered being that age. He really did; and while he was completely comfortable about his body now, back then he'd have probably been mortified if an almost-naked man had sashayed into the room.

On the other hand – there was still coffee in his cup. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving it and going to shower and dress.

He glanced at Blaine again, catching the boy mid-stare and making him blush pretty pink, and sighed.

"You're probably not used to guys running around in their underwear first thing in the… um, afternoon. Sorry, my brain is useless until I power it with coffee, I forgot you were here. I hope I haven't scarred you for life."

Blaine chuckled softly, still blushing. "Don't worry. You're just… really good looking. Like, model-level of good looking." He blushed an even deeper pink.

Kurt laughed and ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. "Thank you, although I seriously doubt that right at this moment. And thanks for making coffee, by the way. It's excellent."

Blaine grinned like a praised child. "Cooper told me how strong you like it."

Kurt raised his eyebrow. "Oh, so he called?"

"Yes." Judging by Blaine's happy smile, it must have been a good call, too. "We talked for a long while. He said he'd be here at 6:30 to take me to his place."

Kurt glanced at the clock. They still had almost six hours to fill. Swallowing the rest of his coffee, he made a quick decision.

"Okay, I don't have to go to the theater today, so I'm free until seven. The temperature outside seems bearable, too, so why don't we go for an introductory-level New York tour? I'll show you how to move around here to be safe and avoid getting completely lost."

* * *

It was well after midnight and the apartment was settling into nocturnal silence around Blaine. Through the wall, he could hear his brother's soft snoring. He was sitting on the mattress that would serve him as a bed for the next nine weeks, his back against the wall and a thick, well-worn notebook in his lap.

Cooper's apartment turned out to be big, tastefully furnished and messy even when freshly cleaned. The spare room that was turned into Blaine's space for the summer had been hastily emptied of all the stuff that had accumulated there over the years. It was small but cozy and Blaine liked it immediately. Now, with all his things placed in the dresser and on the shelves, it felt homey already.

He fluffed the pillow supporting his back and looked through the last five pages of writing. So much had happened today that he'd felt the need to write down – meeting his brother for the first time in three years; the long, honest conversation over dinner; Coop's explanation and apology for leaving him like he had.

And then there was the part that made Blaine blush – the part about Kurt.

He'd hesitated before writing about his reaction to seeing Kurt earlier today. But he'd always been completely open in his journal – it was the only place where he didn't censor himself in any way. So after a short pause, Blaine picked up his pen again and let the words flow.

The problem with this kind of writing was that while it helped to get things out, sometimes it made the pictures and urges stronger, harder to resist. This was one of those times.

After a long while of frantic writing, Blaine closed the notebook and put it into a desk drawer. He didn't try to hide it, not here – he was pretty sure Cooper wouldn't go through his things. The lamp switched off, he fought with himself for a while longer – it really seemed inappropriate. Kurt was not only ten years older than him; he was also Cooper's best friend. But the temptation was too strong, and it wasn't like anyone would know anyway – so soon Blaine was tugging at his pajama pants and making sure he had tissues at hand.

His mind was already replaying that glorious moment when Kurt had wandered out of his bedroom, all perfect creamy skin and toned muscles, causing Blaine's brain to short-circuit immediately. His reaction had been so strong it must have seemed weird, but Blaine couldn't have helped it – just as he couldn't help how his cock jumped at the mere picture in his head now.

Blaine was a visual kind of person – pictures and the printed word influenced him intensely. And ever since he'd started to think about sex, it had always been the thought of seeing, not touching, that affected him the most. In the time he'd been with Nathan, Blaine had gotten off countless times to the fantasy of undressing his boyfriend, seeing his body at last; his cock – not just feeling it through denim against his hip. It turned him on even more than the prospect of being touched himself. And he'd been so close to being able to finally _see_ for the first time when his father had walked in on them.

So seeing Kurt today, messy-haired and sleepy, completely unselfconscious, had sent Blaine into the state of almost painful arousal so quickly he'd felt light-headed. Now, behind closed eyelids he saw the sun playing on Kurt's back as he fixed his coffee. He remembered the thick outline of his cock, morning erection still straining against the black cotton of his boxers, and he had to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape his lips. His hand picked up speed, frantic movement over too-dry skin, as snapshots whirled in his head – Kurt's sea-colored eyes, sleepy and dazed; his hair looking like they might after sex; his blissful expression when he drank his coffee. God, if _that_ was enough to make him look so erotic, what must he look like when he came?

And since in fantasies everything was allowed, he let himself imagine Kurt falling apart under his – Blaine's – hands, his lips; over him, buried deep in him. It was the last thought that did it, seizing his muscles and painting his stomach with strings of hot come as he bit his fist to stop himself from crying out through the intensity of his release.

* * *

A block away, in his apartment, Kurt moaned with abandon as his hips stuttered and he came into his date's eager mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

To say that Kurt was grumpy would be an understatement of the month. He had stayed up until six thirty last night (or this morning if someone wanted to be anal), frustrated and restless after Mitch went home, and it had taken him a while to fall asleep even then. He'd planned to sleep in, but then Seb called at eleven damn a.m., and was cheeky enough to startle him wide awake, yelling about an emergency, before laughing like it was the best joke ever and defining emergency as a lunch date. And now it was noon, or close enough – he might have gotten distracted trying to cover the dark circles under his eyes – and Kurt was grumpy and bitchy, and entering their coffee bar with an intention to kick his friend's ass.

Of course, Sebastian knew him way too well to give him a chance. As soon as Kurt got in and made a few steps towards their usual table, he was grabbed and greeted with a wet, demanding kiss. But he knew Seb too, so he just lulled him into the sense of security, returning the kiss for a few seconds, before biting his lower lip, hard. His friend jumped away with an offended cry.

"Ow, bitch!"

Kurt shrugged. "Don't put your mouth where it doesn't belong, hasn't your mother taught you that?"

Sebastian snorted, turning towards the bar already, but not before he landed a sneaky slap on Kurt's ass.

"Fair enough. Grande non-fat mocha with an extra espresso?"

"And an oatmeal muffin."

"Mm, demanding."

"Says the man who bullied me into getting up at the break of dawn and coming here before breakfast."

"Honey, your break of dawn is other hardworking people's well-earned lunchtime." Seb passed the money to the barista and pushed Kurt towards their table.

"Not my fault if they insist on keeping such a schedule." Kurt settled into his favorite armchair and only then he realized that they weren't alone. Blaine was sitting in the corner, nursing a small latte, and beside him, Cooper was playing with a biscotti. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Wow, hi guys. Seb, how did you _do_ this? Did you tie Coop up and bring him here? I don't believe he's capable of leaving his office voluntarily during work hours."

Sebastian chuckled and passed Kurt his coffee, which he sipped immediately.

"Pretty much. There was kicking and screaming involved."

Everyone laughed except for Cooper, who grumbled something about important papers and timetables instead. Caffeine slowly spreading through his system at last, Kurt nibbled on his muffin and asked.

"So what's the occasion for this gathering at such an ungodly hour?"

Sebastian took care to move his chair a little further away from him before he answered.

"Well, I was bored, slow day at work…" Grinning at Kurt's and Cooper's surprisingly similar Glares of Death, he went on. "So I decided it was time to meet Anderson Junior. Fine lad, if I may say so." Blaine flashed a faint smile, looking intimidated. "Plus, I needed to know _everything_ about your date last night! So tell me, is Mick the one and only?"

Even Cooper perked up now and looked at him intently. Kurt groaned.

"First of all, his name is Mitch, not Mick. Second of all, it was just a date, guys, not an engagement. I don't see why you are so excited about this."

It was Cooper who answered this time.

"Kurt, it wasn't justa date – it was a _fourth_ date. You haven't gone on more than two with the same guy ever since the mess with James three years ago."

Kurt frowned and crossed his arms.

"Two and a half." Damn. It wasn't supposed to sound defensive.

"Nevermind. The thing is, it's been nothing but one-night stands for you for so long that a fourth date? It's _huge_."

"Are you calling me a slut?"

He tried to zap Coop with the bitch face, but it must have been only partially loaded, with too little caffeine in his system yet, because his friend didn't even blink. Sebastian cut in.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a slut. Deal with it, we love you anyway. So tell us, our dearest friend, is it _looooove_?"

He sang the last words in that ridiculously cheery voice of his, and Kurt glared at him before shrugging.

"Love's a myth."

Sebastian winced. "Uh-oh. No fifth date then? No serenading in Central Park, lavish weddings and cute gay babies?"

"Nope." He picked up his cup again. Coffee. The best friend of all.

"Damn." Sebastian groaned, but Kurt saw Cooper grin and extend his hand, palm up. _Wait_, what the fuck? Had they been...

Seb cursed, but took out his wallet and handed Coop a neatly folded hundred.

"Fine. You were right. But I still maintain that he'll fall for a guy properly by the end of the year, love and all."

Yup. They'd been betting. On his love life. The bastards.

Cooper pocketed the money and chuckled. "And I'm still telling you that you'll owe me another one of these then."

"Like you know anything about relationships. Being married to your job doesn't count, just so you know." Sebastian smirked and stole the last bit of biscotti from Cooper's plate, earning a slap on the hand in the process.

"Oh yeah? _You_, on the other hand –"

Oh god, they were doing it again. They'd poke fun at each other, then argue, and then Kurt would have to be a goddamn mediator for the next week. No fucking way.

"Guys. _Guys_?" It was loud enough to get their attention. Finally. "I hate you both."

Sebastian slapped his forehead and moved his chair closer to Kurt. "You're right. We're so sorry. You need comforting and we're –"

"I _don't_ need comforting."

Cooper leaned towards him over the table, too.

"Just tell us what you need. A guy's night out? Drinking until you forget?"

"A friendly fuck?" Sebastian put on his serious, concerned face. Bastard.

"No, seriously, we'll help any way we can." Cooper reached to pat Kurt's hand.

"What was wrong with Mick –" Seb started.

"Mitch."

" – Mitch, anyway? Was the sex bad?" Now it was the _counselor_ look, and Kurt was really having enough of this conversation. He snapped.

"The sex was _fine_, thank you very much. It was the rest that wasn't. It would be nice to have a conversation sometimes, maybe. Some mutual interests? You can only fuck a guy into the mattress so many times until you realize that."

A choked sound came from the side and suddenly, they all remembered about Blaine, who was sitting quietly in the corner, red-faced and very wide-eyed. Kurt quickly replayed the highlights of their conversation in his head and groaned.

"Oh fuck. I mean. Great. See? Now you two have terrified Blaine with your crazy ways. I'm sorry, Blaine, we're not always this –"

Sebastian raised his hand to silence him and looked at Blaine intently.

" – Insane? Intense? Yeah, we are. But don't try that at home. Remember, you don't want to be like Kurt when you grow up, young Jedi. There is a whole world of beautiful gay love out there, don't believe those that say otherwise. Kurt's just… compensating. James hurt him and – "

Kurt stood up quickly and grabbed the remaining half of his muffin. "_Oh my god_, okay, enough. I'm going home and back to bed, and I don't want to hear from either of you until you start behaving like normal people. Or at least as close as possible with you. Thanks for coffee. Bye."

He would have slammed the door on his way out, but it was unslammable. Dammit. Even doors hated him today. Fuming, he marched towards his apartment.

* * *

An hour later Blaine was back in his room in Cooper's apartment, his head still reeling from all that he saw and heard. He'd planned to go and explore the city on his own after lunch, but right now there was no chance for him to focus on anything outside of his own head, so he gave up and came home instead. Lying down on the mattress, he let his thoughts go back to the events in the coffee bar.

After Kurt had stormed out, there was a moment of uncomfortable silence at the table. Both of the men looked like they were wondering if they'd gone too far, but soon Sebastian shrugged and went on telling Blaine the story of how James, Kurt's ex-fiancé, had left him less than a month before the wedding, and how Kurt had never been the same since. This was all Blaine heard before Cooper interrupted to say that he needed to get back to work.

They walked together for a bit, and all along Coop was trying to convince Blaine that Kurt was really a great guy, no matter how many different men he wanted to date, while Blaine was wondering if he really seemed like such a kid to them. Because how could all of them have read him so wrong?

On the other hand, maybe it was better they did. The truth might have been a lot more awkward for everyone present.

They all seemed to believe that Blaine felt uncomfortable about their conversation. Disturbed, even, or maybe disgusted. They couldn't be further from the truth if they tried. His feelings were of a different kind altogether.

There was jealousy, for sure. He knew he had absolutely no right to be jealous about all the other men that got to kiss and touch Kurt, Sebastian included. But right or wrong, the green-eyed monster was there, gnawing at his insides. It was grinding its teeth hearing that Kurt had went on a date (and, most likely, had sex) last night; it became more restless when they were talking about _one night stands_, and once Kurt got to _fucking a guy into the mattress_… Guhhhh. Blaine had almost choked on the picture his brain managed to produce before losing all blood as it migrated south in a hurry.

There was astonishment among his feelings, too – a stunned kind of disbelief that made him sit quietly in his corner, sip on his latte (an experiment, just like Kurt had suggested, and delicious) and listen intently. Here he was, fresh from Ohio where he'd been teased, bullied, taught that there was no place for people like him there, told to keep his sexuality to himself, if only for his own safety – and then there was _that_. Three adult men, including his own _straight_ brother, sitting in a public place, talking and bantering openly about gay relationships, gay _sex_ even. Without a shadow of fear, without looking around to check if anyone disapproved, like it was something completely normal.

Because it _was_ normal. This was how it was supposed to be – how it should be everywhere. It wasn't that New York was strange – it was the rest of the world that was weird and wrong, all those places where two boys holding hands were looked at with disgust and showered with hateful words, or worse.

And Blaine had known that there were such places as here – but it was theory, a gay utopia of sorts. Now that he'd gotten to see it for himself, he knew without a shadow of doubt that he wanted to live here too. That he would do anything in his power to come back to New York after graduation, and that he would stay here, where his sexuality didn't determine who he was and what he could do. He wanted to just be normal, to have normal relationships, normal heartbreaks, normal sex, things that everyone else took for granted. To be able to date openly, hold hands wherever he wanted, kiss in public, live with a boyfriend, get married one day. He wanted it all so much it hurt.

It was not the only thing he wanted, though, and _this_ could be a problem.

Because how wrong was it to desperately want to be held down and fucked into the mattress by your older brother's best friend?

* * *

"Have Kurt and Sebastian ever been… you know, an item?" Blaine asked Cooper over a late dinner of take-out Chinese that evening. He hoped he wasn't too obvious, but ever since he saw them kiss earlier, the question wouldn't leave him alone.

Cooper just laughed. "God no. I know, they act like an old married couple sometimes, but they've never actually dated. Or slept together, for that matter. This is just their thing; the teasing, the groping – but I doubt they'd ever actually follow through with it. Too much potential to screw things up, I think, and they need each other. We all do."

"It seems like you three are really good friends."

Coop nodded, his face serious now.

"The best. I don't know what I would do without them. Well, probably work even more and be less sane." He flashed Blaine a smile before going back to playing with his chopsticks. "It's funny, you know? We're all completely different, and yet we click somehow. We talk, we meet, we do silly stuff, and at the same time we know that we can trust one another with our lives. There have been situations where we all learned we can depend on one another."

"Like what?" Blaine asked before he thought it might be too private. But Cooper didn't mind, apparently.

"Like when Kurt's dad had his second heart attack. They decided to do a bypass surgery that same night, and in his state it was pretty risky, but so was waiting. Kurt had like eight hours to get there before the surgery, I think, and it was right before Christmas, so he couldn't get an earlier flight, everything was booked. He called us, almost hysterical, and by the time Sebastian got to Kurt's apartment half an hour later, he had a small private plane ready for Kurt and a cab waiting outside to take him to the airport."

Blaine's jaw might have hit the floor before he noticed and gathered it back.

"Sebastian has a private plane?"

Cooper laughed. "No, not yet at least. But he's from a really wealthy family and works with people who have more money than they know what to do with. He has his ways. He pretends not to care too much, but then he goes and uses his money and connections to go above and beyond."

"What about Kurt's father? Was he okay?" Blaine had to ask – he remembered Kurt telling him how important his family was to him.

Cooper nodded and put his carton on the table.

"Yeah, the surgery went great and he's good as new now, thank god. I don't know how Kurt would have survived if he'd lost his dad then, right on top of James leaving. That was a bad month for him. And Kurt will drop everything to take care of those close to him, but when it comes to asking for help, he's worse than a mule. He shuts himself in his little world and it's hard to get to him and convince him to let you take care of _him_, for a change. He's kind of like you in that regard."

Blaine said nothing. He'd learned long ago that dumping your problems on others wouldn't solve them, and often would make matters worse. That's why the phone call to Cooper was such a clear act of desperation – he just didn't do such things. Didn't ask for help. He managed, alone. That's why he knew he understood Kurt – his heart clenched at the thought of how hard it must have been for him, back then.

"Anyway," Cooper yawned and stretched. "Any plans for tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I think I'll walk around, do some touristy stuff, you know."

"Okay. Just be careful. Oh, and before I forget again." Cooper reached for his wallet and took out a debit card. "The code is 0823, like your birthday. You need to eat and buy stuff sometimes, right? Don't go overboard, but you don't have to count every penny, either."

Blaine took the card, surprised with the trust his brother put in him. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it. And I'll be late tomorrow, so maybe meet Kurt for dinner if you want company?"

"But he said –"

Cooper laughed. "He meant Seb and me, not you, silly. Don't worry about it, it's not the first time."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

It took Blaine a while to man up and call Kurt the next day, and the very vivid erotic dream he'd had last night didn't make it any easier, either. He just hoped he'd be able to look at Kurt and not picture him in all sorts of indecent ways. But by four, after walking around the monumental city since early morning, he really needed to sit down, rest and eat something. It was either dinner alone at some random place, or calling Kurt. And he'd had enough of being alone today.

Kurt didn't sound surprised or irritated when Blaine suggested eating dinner together. He simply said, "Sure. Are you allergic to anything?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

Kurt hummed to himself and there was a sound of cabinets opening and closing in the background.

"Anything you don't eat?"

No explanation then. That was fine.

"Um… snails? Liver? And I don't really like black olives too much."

Kurt hummed some more and now Blaine could hear him stirring something vigorously. "Great! Come by within an hour and I'll let you have your pick."

The call was disconnected and Blaine looked at his phone, confused. His pick of what? Well, whatever. He'd learn soon enough.

It turned out what Kurt meant was the best pizza Blaine had ever eaten – homemade, with thin crust and plenty of fresh ingredients he got to choose for his half even though he was five minutes late for Kurt's deadline. As they were sitting on the couch later, full and content, sipping virgin mojitos because it was still hot, Blaine asked.

"Are you still mad at Cooper and Sebastian?"

Kurt laughed good-naturedly. "No, but don't tell them, they deserve to suffer some more. That was thoughtless of them; you didn't need to hear all that."

"I didn't mind." Surprisingly, Blaine managed not to blush at all.

Kurt shook his head. "I did. It made me look like a walking stereotype. I don't want you to think that's how it is once you're out of high school and in a place where you can be yourself."

"Kurt. I know. It's okay."

Blue-grey eyes looked at Blaine inquisitively for a moment before Kurt nodded. "Okay then."

Blaine decided to change the topic.

"I wanted to ask – would you mind if I came over sometimes and played the piano? I haven't been away from mine for longer than a week in years, and I don't want to get rusty."

Kurt smiled and waved his hand towards the instrument.

"Sure, as long as you don't play when I'm asleep – I don't mind it when I work or do other things. In fact, just get the keys from Coop and come whenever you want. My work schedule is on the refrigerator, so you can look up when I'm going to be out if you'd rather play then."

Blaine had a little trouble believing his ears.

"Wait, you want me to just… come and go, even if you're not here?"

Kurt shrugged. "Sure. Why, are you actually a teenage delinquent and just hiding it well?"

Blaine blushed. "No, but –"

Kurt waved his astonishment away.

"I have no reason not to trust you. And I rather like you, so feel invited to hang out whenever you like. Or... almost; I'll let you know when it's um... better not to." He shook his head and quickly changed the topic. "Oh, by the way – if you want to visit at the theater some time, that's fine, too. Just come over one day when I'm there, I'll get you a visitor's pass and introduce you to the crew, so that you can come whenever you want. They won't mind."

"Wow," was the only thing Blaine managed to say. And then he caught himself and added, "Thank you, Kurt. You're amazing."

This was going to be the best summer ever.

* * *

During the next week they fell into an easy routine of seeing each other every day. It wasn't planned – it just happened between Blaine dropping by to play the piano, visiting the theater (Kurt took him to an elderly security guard and got him a pass, introducing him as "a friend from Ohio who may be visiting a lot this summer") and going out together to see the less touristy sides of New York. And oh, how Blaine loved his tour through Broadway! Kurt knew so much about its history, so many anecdotes and trivia that by the end of the evening Blaine's head was spinning and he was more in love with theater than ever before. He might be also a tiny bit infatuated with his personal tour guide, he admitted to himself as they were walking back to Cooper's apartment later that night. Although, he corrected himself quickly, it was probably just the glass of wine Kurt ordered for him at dinner.

All in all, Blaine felt better and happier than he had in a long time. He let himself forget about the problems with his father and enjoy his time here until he went back home at the end of August. Even the drama with Nathan, when put into broader perspective of what life could offer him outside of Ohio, felt like merely a dark dot on the film of his memory. He was in a wonderful city with his brother, he had his music and an opportunity to see with his own eyes how a Broadway show was made, and he was quickly becoming friends with a gorgeous, fascinating man who understood him like nobody else.

Life was good.

* * *

"Hey. Don't mind me, I'm annoyed."

Kurt welcomed Blaine one afternoon in the middle of his second week in New York. He'd just arrived at Kurt's apartment after spending the morning walking around, listening to street musicians – they fascinated him, and some he'd met today were really good.

He washed his hands under the kitchen tap and leaned against the counter. "Did something happen?"

Kurt ground his teeth, then winced at the sound.

"Peterson happened, and his stupid episodic role in some idiotic TV series." Blaine nodded for him to keep going – he knew most of the actors by name by now, and Peterson was the male lead. "He can't do his fitting tomorrow afternoon, so I have to get up at ten fucking a.m. and drag my ass to the theater just for him. God, I hate alarm clocks. I'll be a bitch tomorrow, just so you know."

"I think I'll survive. Are we still on for dinner though?"

Kurt nodded. "Sure, just don't say I didn't warn you if I snap at you or something."

Blaine left early that evening – he had plans for some early morning sightseeing the next day. And if he found himself in a coffeehouse in Kurt's neighborhood at 9:50 in the morning – well, that was a complete coincidence. But since he was so close, he could just as well buy a non-fat, double-espresso mocha and a muffin for Kurt and drop by to make his morning a little better, right?

Except when he entered Kurt's apartment at 9:55, tiptoeing to the kitchen and depositing the goodies on the counter, he realized that he had no idea what to do now. His plan – a completely impromptu one, of course – had been to save Kurt from the mean attack of the evil alarm clock, and wake him up with his favorite hot beverage delivery instead. But he couldn't just let himself into the bedroom! And the smell of coffee wouldn't get through the closed door – at least not strongly enough to wake Kurt up.

But… something else would. It was only two minutes to ten when Blaine sat at the piano and started playing a soft, sweet melody – quietly at first, then gradually stronger, though never actually loud. He didn't hear much from the bedroom, but the alarm clock never went off and five minutes after ten Kurt opened the door and smiled at him.

"I think I'll forgive you for playing while I was sleeping. That was a nice way to wake up, Blaine."

* * *

Kurt hated alarm clocks with a passion. A device that jerked you awake without any consideration for the fact that you were in the middle of a dream or in the worst possible sleep phase was nothing but evil.

Beautiful music, on the other hand, that tangled in your dreams and gently led you towards consciousness, was a very nice wake-up call. Kurt managed to turn off his alarm clock just before it blared, and by the time he opened his bedroom door, fully dressed, he was awake enough to determine that despite the ungodly hour, he was only sleepy, not murderously annoyed. Nothing that a large dose of caffeine couldn't cure. Mm, maybe the handsome pianist in his living room had thought to make coffee?

It turned out he'd done more than that. A strong, hot mocha – in a travel mug to keep it hot, even! – and a fresh blueberry muffin were waiting for Kurt on the kitchen counter, and _wow_, when was the last time any of the men he _dated_ had thought about that? Just a simple thing, breakfast and coffee, but it showed how thoughtful Blaine was. And they hadn't even had sex. Not to mention, Blaine took care to pay attention and remember Kurt's coffee order, which felt strangely touching.

Damn, he'd make an amazing boyfriend. Attractive, with a fashion sense, well-mannered, caring, thoughtful… And they talked for hours sometimes, never running out of topics, and Kurt really enjoyed these conversations. Sure, Blaine was younger, less knowledgeable about how the world worked, and a little naïve, but he was enthusiastic and passionate, and intellectually, an equal partner for Kurt, which didn't happen all that often among the guys he met.

By the time he was halfway through his mocha, Kurt's brain woke up properly and put an end to his little fantasy, leaving him on the verge of a pity party titled "I would _so_ date him if he wasn't ten years younger and my best friend's brother". Sighing, Kurt finished his breakfast and pushed the thought out of his mind, though Blaine's smiling eyes over the piano keys made it quite a challenge.

* * *

Two days later, Kurt was working late at the empty theater. Or rather, wasting time waiting for an actor who got stalled by some cat trouble. He'd called, rambling something about a vet appointment, delays and traffic, and Kurt was sympathetic, he _really_ was, but he had to sew this guy's costume tonight, before diving into the nightmare that was the period dresses. He was on a schedule, and he could do nothing without pinning the parts properly on a living breathing body.

A knock on his open door snapped him out of his annoyed thoughts.

"Hi! I was passing by and the guard outside told me you're still here. I thought I'd drop by to say hello."

Blaine was standing in the doorway, looking… wow, definitely different. He was in simple black yoga pants and a tight black tank top. A few dark tendrils of his hair had escaped the careful styling and were curling adorably on his forehead and temples. This was the least put together Kurt had ever seen him, and he had to admit that he really enjoyed the view.

But his professional eye saw something else besides a hot boy, and the next second Kurt was shuffling through his papers to check the measurements. If he was right – and he had years of practice in judging these things, so he most likely was – there might be a way to save his evening after all. He found the right page and read through it quickly to refresh his memory. _Yes!_ Blaine's posture and frame were very similar to Bell's, the actor he was waiting for. Kurt could do the fitting with a substitute, and then correct any slight differences at a later time.

"How tall are you?"

Blaine seemed a little taken aback at the sudden question. "Um… Five nine?"

"No you're not, stop that." Kurt got up and stood by Blaine. "Five seven, maybe a _little _bit more. Excellent! Now strip."

"Wh- what?"

Kurt turned from the pile of fabric pieces, cut and prepared for tailoring. Blaine's shocked face made him stop and rewind the last minute of conversation, and he snorted quietly as he realized what it must have sounded like. Standard: his brain was miles ahead of his mouth again.

"Sorry, no, it's not what it sounds like." He said, leaning against the edge of his desk. "It's just – would you mind modeling a costume for me? I need to fit it and prepare for sewing, and the actor is disastrously late – at this rate I won't be home until ten at least, and I have a lot to do tonight. You're built very much like him, so if you could… It would help me a lot, and I just need fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of your time."

"And… stripping?"

"Oh, just to your underwear, obviously."

Blaine glanced around quickly as if searching for an escape route. He looked uncertain when he looked back at Kurt.

"Um, sure, just… I've just been to the gym and I'm all sweaty and disgusting. There was a crowd there tonight so I thought I could shower at home and –"

Oh. So _that_ was the problem, a little sweat?

"It's okay, I don't mind at all."

"But –"

Blaine still looked like a deer in the highlights, and in normal circumstances it would make Kurt back off. Tonight, however, he really wanted to go home and get down to work already. He made his best pleading face, knowing full well he was playing dirty. Well, it wasn't like he planned to sexually assault the boy.

"Please?" He tilted his head a little for a better effect, but then grew serious as a thought came to him. "Unless you're uncomfortable with it, I mean."

Blaine shook his head and laughed shakily.

"No, it's okay, if you _really_ don't mind me being gross... So what, should I take it all off?"

Kurt beamed at him. "Great! Thank you, you're helping me _so much_. Just the top first, okay? I'll start with the shirt and vest."

He turned away to pick the right pieces of fabric and when he looked back at Blaine… No, he didn't _gasp_, why would he? He'd been with a lot of attractive men – he had standards, okay? So it wasn't a gasp, just a little surprised inhalation. Barely audible, really. Yes.

He just didn't expect Blaine to look… well, like _that_. He was seventeen, for gods' sake (_almost eighteen_, his treacherous mind whispered). Seventeen-year-old boys didn't look like Greek gods – all olive skin and muscled arms, toned chests with a scattering of dark hair, and tiny waists with a sharp V down their sides leading the eyes dangerously lower.

They didn't, right? At least, Kurt couldn't remember _that_ from his high school locker rooms.

Blaine shifted under his eye (_stare, Kurt, it was totally a _stare_, you creepy creep_) and that finally spurred Kurt into action. He moved closer and started fitting the pinned pieces of the shirt. He chatted as he worked; not only trying to relax Blaine, who was clearly tense, but for his own benefit as well. He needed to keep himself from thinking about all the tanned, salty skin just begging to be licked, so close, radiating warmth and the heady combined smell of _man_ and _hot summer_ and some sort of citrusy aftershave. Really, just thinking about it was inappropriate.

"So you were at a gym? Which one?" He stood behind Blaine and straightened the fabric on his back a little to make the seam even. Blaine shrugged, sliding it out of symmetry again.

"The one that Cooper goes to. He said I could use his membership while I'm here because he doesn't have time for it now anyway. I box when I'm at Dalton, so I thought it would be good to practice now and then while I'm here."

_Ngh_.

_Focus on not sticking him with a pin, you perv. Your kink for sweaty guys can wait until later. At home. With a bottle of lube, or something._

"Um. Boxing, you say."

Blaine hummed, sounding a little distracted. The muscles in his stomach fluttered under Kurt's fingertips as he smoothed the thin cotton to fit properly.

"Uh, yeah. I took it up after being bullied so much at my old high school. I didn't want to be defenseless anym-_oh_-ore."

The breathy little stutter was a result of Kurt sliding his hands down Blaine's sides to check the fit.

"Sorry, did I stick you?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Okay then, let's do the sleeves now."

* * *

Blaine was having an increasingly hard time distracting himself from Kurt's proximity; his subtle scent that surrounded him like a warm, heady mist; his hands – fleetingly touching, smoothing the fabric, always close in their cool softness.

He survived the shirt fitting, and the vest was easier with a thicker barrier of fabrics between their skin. Blaine distracted himself further by telling Kurt about his newest musical discoveries on the streets. But then… Then it was time to tailor the pants.

It wasn't like Blaine had never stripped to his underwear in front of other guys before – of course he had: locker rooms, swimming pools… he was a normal boy, after all. It was just… he'd never undressed in front of a guy he kind of… liked. And was extremely attracted to. And while he was by no means ashamed of his body, right now he really felt gross, dried sweat making his skin sticky, his hair probably a mess. Not a way to impress a man, really. He hoped he didn't smell.

_Okay, here goes…_

The next moment he stood before Kurt in nothing but his red boxer briefs, his face hot with a blush. Thankfully, Kurt was all business, preparing the fabric pieces, fastening them together around Blaine's hips, then moving around to –

_Oh-kay. Think unsexy thoughts now. Quick! What's not sexy? Oh! Cooper's attempt at roast beef last night. Homeless bums on the subway. People cleaning up after their dogs in Central Park. Good, very good, Anderson. Keep that up (or, actually, down)._

Kurt had just finished tailoring the pants in his ass region and moved to the legs, which meant…

_Holy shit. More unsexy, now. Vaginas. STDs. My parents having sex. Ew!_

_Fuck, really? Nothing's working?_

Of course nothing was working, because Kurt Hummel was currently kneeling before him with his face right in front of Blaine's crotch, and was pinning the fabric on the side leg seam, occasionally ghosting his fingers over the sensitive skin of Blaine's inner thigh. Which was, well, simply too much for a hormonal teenage boy to endure without any sort of reaction, okay?

Just, deep breathing. It would be over soon. Maybe Kurt didn't even notice? Yeah, no – a rapidly growing bulge at your eye level was usually hard to miss.

_Fuck_. Oops, no thinking about fucking. Or mattresses. Or, really, just.

Could the earth swallow him already?

It took several torturous minutes that felt as if they would never end before Kurt stood up and nodded, apparently satisfied with the effects of his work. Um, the tailoring effects, obviously, not the _other_ effects. Kurt was gracious enough not to mention Blaine's _problem _at all.

He must have gotten a cramp, poor man, kneeling on the floor in his tight pants like that, because he was moving slightly awkwardly when he got up and stepped away to let Blaine get dressed. And if Kurt's hands seemed to tremble a little and his eyes were darker than usual, it must have been Blaine's imagination.

There was no other explanation.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

The second week of Blaine's New York stay came to a close; it was almost the end of June. The heat was still thick in the air, making everyone sweaty and irritable. But Blaine felt anxious and fidgety in ways that had nothing to do with the weather.

Ever since that evening with Kurt at the theater, it was very hard for him to sit still. So he kept coming up with ways to keep himself busy.

On Monday, he focused on places with live music; coffee houses, restaurants, karaoke bars. He'd order coffee or a coke and chat with people, amazed with how many places in this city offered a chance to sing and play. On certain days, you could just come and perform, no matter how much of an amateur you were. Blaine promised himself to try it one day soon, and the mere prospect of performing was exhilarating.

On Tuesday, he explored the subway. He traveled the whole length of some lines, got off on random stops and tried to find something interesting everywhere: unusual buildings, a pretty little park, a lovely view or three, a great music store. It gave him all sorts of pictures and memories to bring home that evening, and yet, as exhausted as he was, he still had trouble falling asleep.

On Wednesday, it was art – he made a list of exhibitions to see this summer, and since they required way more than just a day of his time, he started with the ones with the shortest run. The day was busy and full of things beautiful, interesting and just plain weird, but as he was nearing Cooper's apartment that evening, he still felt like something was lacking. He even knew what it was. Without much thought, he turned and walked towards Kurt's place instead.

The piano. He missed playing after a five-day break.

The apartment was dark and quiet when he let himself in – no telltale sound of a sewing machine or Kurt's humming flowing through his studio door. It wasn't much of a surprise – Kurt had told him back on Saturday that he wouldn't have time to meet for several days at least. He was spending all of his time this week creating some elaborate, multilayered dresses. He had two seamstresses to help him, so he'd planned to work in his theater workroom during the day. Blaine knew all about it, and he hadn't really expected to see Kurt here. Still, he felt a little disappointed. Okay, _very_ disappointed. Which was silly.

He shook his head to move his thoughts in some other direction. It worked for a bit, but after ten minutes of focus, he let himself flow on the waves of music and his mind went to the one topic it had been bouncing back to constantly in the last couple of days.

He missed Kurt.

And not just in that simple, easy way you miss a friend, like when he's home sick for a week and you have no one to exchange notes with in a boring class or to go for coffee with. No. This was like an ache, persistent and impossible to locate. Like a constant vibration in his brain, like he couldn't relax because something important was missing. It kept him awake and made him stop and turn in the middle of the street more than once these past few days, because he thought he'd seen Kurt's gracious form, or the stormy blue of his eyes; thought he'd heard his laugh.

It was exhausting. And so, _so _stupid.

Blaine ground his teeth and set to playing the difficult new piece from the sheet music he'd left here last week. It was a good distraction and even if it didn't fill the hole that the longing left, it was enough for now.

So he had a crush on a guy he could never have – so what? He'd deal with it.

And then it was Thursday, and something happened, and Blaine was left confused and terrified, his head reeling and his heart pounding with panic, and anxiety, and maybejust a little hope. And as he was sitting in his room late that night, shaking and lonely and going crazy with the hurricane of emotions, there was only one person he knew who might understand and not judge him, and maybe even help.

With trembling fingers, Blaine scrolled through his address book until he found him.

_Kurt Hummel _

He wrote a short text, pressed _Send_ and waited.

* * *

An incoming text startled Kurt around 2 a.m., when he was curled in an armchair with the third glass of red wine in his hand, celebrating the fact that the dreadful dresses were almost done. Curious, he reached for his phone – most people he knew either slept at this time, or were well on their way to bed, at least on workdays.

Well, apparently Blaine wasn't like most people in more ways than Kurt had already known.

_**Blaine Anderson:**__ How busy are you tonight?_

Kurt tapped out a reply.

_Not critically so. Why?_

The answer was immediate.

_**Blaine Anderson:**__ I need to talk to someone._

Kurt frowned. Had it been anyone else, he'd only be mildly concerned. But in this case, he was actually worried. Blaine hesitated to ask for help even when he needed it. Mixed with the fact that he knew Kurt would most likely still be buried in work, but texted anyway, meant that something had to be seriously wrong. He hoped the boy wasn't in trouble – god knew it was easy to find in this city, especially after dark. Wait, was Blaine even at home, or at least somewhere safe? He replied quickly.

_Do you want to come over? _

_**Blaine Anderson:**__ I'm on my way._

Kurt had barely finished his wine, washed the glass and straightened the kitchen a bit before there was a soft knock on the door. Blaine looked unharmed when he nodded helloand came into the brightly lit living room, but Kurt knew it didn't necessarily mean he was fine. He looked closer, noticing the details – the soft curls of his hair with barely a touch of product, the furrowed brow, the slumped posture. Yes, Blaine Anderson was definitely one troubled boy tonight. And if he came to Kurt, and not to Cooper, did it mean he got tangled in something Kurt might better understand, or that he wouldn't dare tell his brother?

No. No assuming. Blaine would tell him if he wanted to, and in his own time. Which didn't look like anytime soon. That was fine – Kurt wasn't going to pry; he knew the difficulty of opening up to other people with your problems. Instead of hovering, he left Blaine fidgeting with the plush throw on the back of the sofa and went to the fridge.

"I have water, grapefruit juice, diet coke and wine. What can I get you?"

"Coke please."

Even Blaine's voice was quiet tonight, subdued. He looked like he didn't know what to do with himself, and Kurt got an idea. He took out the coke and a bottle of sparkling water for himself, and gestured for Blaine to put his shoes back on.

"Come on, I'll show you something."

Several flights of stairs and a ladder later, they were on the roof. Kurt quietly closed the door behind him and smiled at Blaine, who stood there, clearly enchanted with the view.

"I come here sometimes when I need to think, or just to get away from everything and everyone."

He set their beverages on the ground and leaned against the waist-high brick wall that ran around the edge of the rooftop. The view always took his breath away, no matter how long he'd lived in the city.

"It's so beautiful." There was awe in Blaine's voice, a hushed sort of astonishment as he stood beside him.

"It is."

It was still hours until dawn, and even though the stars had faded against the illumination of the city that never slept, the moon was still clear over faraway skyscrapers, frail and thin in its crescent. It was peaceful, and after a while, Kurt heard Blaine take a steadying breath.

"I was in Central Park since early morning today," he started, still looking away, at the vast city of lights spread before them. "I wanted to walk all around, see as much as I could, and then settle somewhere and relax."

Kurt nodded. He'd done that regularly his first year here, and many times since. Blaine continued, still not looking at him.

"In the afternoon, I found a nice place to rest. There was a girl playing the violin in an alley; she was really good. I dropped some money into her violin case, and then sat on the grass under a tree, where I could still hear the music. I read some, then started writing in my journal."

Blaine glanced at Kurt, as if to check his reaction. Reassured by the lack of judgment, he reached for the coke, popped it open and drank a little, stalling.

"The music must have stopped at some point, but I didn't realize it until the girl sat beside me. She seemed nice, so we started talking. Her name was Meg. It turns out she's a senior in high school too, and that she also wants to study music next year, and since she lives here, she knows all about the best programs. We had a lot to talk about – I mean, music alone, it felt really good to chat with someone as passionate about it as I am. We must have talked for an hour, maybe more, before she said she needed to go back to playing, and then she…" Blaine paused and took a shuddering breath. "She kissed me. On the lips, and not just a peck, either, Kurt. I was so surprised I didn't even react when she took my hand and wrote her number on my palm, said 'Call me' and left."

"That's one bold girl." Kurt commented, if only to say something. It clearly wasn't all because Blaine was still struggling to get something out, but at that point Kurt felt calmer. He could already guess what it would be – and he wasn't mistaken.

"But Kurt, it felt _nice_!" Blaine sounded desperate now, as if admitting to a grave sin.

"Well, kissing's supposed to feel nice, isn't it?"

Now that he knew what he was dealing with, Kurt relaxed. Blaine was safe, and the situation, while undoubtedly confusing for him, was nothing Kurt – and Sebastian, if needed – couldn't help him get through.

"Well yes, but… Kurt. I always assumed I am gay, it was, well, kind of obvious, but what if I'm actually _bi_? I've never even tried dating a girl, what if I've built my whole life on a wrong assumption? What if I'm not who I thought I was?"

Blaine's voice was quivering now and he crossed his arms tightly, defensively. Kurt thought of the real questions that Blaine never voiced.

_What if I was bullied, beaten and hated for being someone I'm not?_

_What if I could have had my father's love after all, if I'd only tried harder?_

Kurt was pretty sure it wasn't so, if only because Blaine was so shocked by the possibility, proving that he'd never even thought of girls _that way_, but he wasn't one to assume – or judge, for that matter.

"Was she hot?" he asked, and Blaine's dumbfounded expression would be answer enough.

"What?"

"The girl, Meg – was she hot? You two talked for a while, you had time to look at her."

Blaine frowned, the effort of picturing her clearly visible on his face.

"Um. She had nice hair? Long and blond. And green eyes."

"Were you attracted to her?" Kurt continued.

"No, but –" he seemed lost for words.

"Close your eyes. Try to imagine an attractive girl – well, any girl – in a sexual situation. Take your time." Kurt prompted gently. He stood silently for two or three minutes, until Blaine opened his eyes. "Now do the same with a boy you consider hot."

The wait was shorter now, but Blaine still looked worried afterwards. Kurt asked, "Was there any difference in what you felt?"

Blaine nodded. "An obvious one, between nothing and a lot, but… I don't understand then. When she kissed me, it felt just like when Nathan did."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. Blaine was looking at him intently now, as if asking for an answer he could only really find by himself.

"You mean, it turned you on?"

Blaine blushed. "Well no, it was just a kiss after all. But just as nice."

"Wait, you mean that your boyfriend's kisses _didn't_ turn you on? What about other guys?"

Blaine looked confused. "Not the kisses alone, no. I mean – why should they? It was just kissing. And there _were_ no other guys. Nathan was my first boyfriend."

Later, Kurt would blame the wine; alcohol always gave him problems with impulse control.

They were standing so close that it was all too easy to raise his hand and lay it on Blaine's cheek, rough with light stubble. The boy's eyes, almost black in the darkness, were wide and incredulous as Kurt took the half-step into his personal space and whispered into his ear, close enough for his breath to tickle.

"There's no such thing as _just _kissing, Blaine."

He didn't push for it – as much as he suspected that Blaine wasattracted to him, Kurt was a gentleman. He would never force anything. He paused with his lips barely a breath away from Blaine's, and let him close the distance – or move away, if he so chose.

Which he didn't.

The soft fullness of Blaine's lips was delicious, and Kurt relaxed into him, feeling strong arms embrace him and pull him closer – those sinfully hot arms, attached to a gorgeous, smart, fascinating man.

_No. Only a kiss, Kurt, nothing more. Focus, you're trying to prove a point here._

He took the lead with ease. The kiss wasn't dirty or overtly sexual, but it wasn't chaste either. For a moment Kurt moved his lips slowly, languorously against Blaine's before he ghosted the tip of his tongue against the bow of Blaine's upper lip – and felt his hands flex against his back as he was granted entry immediately. The sweet heat of Blaine's mouth tasted like cinnamon, and Kurt took a long while to dance his tongue against Blaine's and slide it across his palate, causing his breath to quicken and stutter. He sucked on Blaine's lower lip and was rewarded with a small, helpless moan as Blaine's hips bucked. Kurt smiled and slowly retreated, with one last soft, lingering kiss.

Blaine looked like the very definition of well-kissed when they parted. He was breathing heavily, his cheeks blushed dark enough to show in the low light and his lips already slightly puffy. He was still clutching at the back of Kurt's shirt. He looked so tempting that Kurt could barely stop himself from diving back into another kiss. But he wasn't tipsy enough to throw all reason to the wind. Sadly.

He grinned instead, and Blaine's hands relaxed on his back, reluctantly releasing their hold.

"That was what a proper kiss should feel like, I'd say. And for the record – I'm not saying that you are surely not bisexual, or that there would be anything wrong if you were, because –"

"I'm gay. One hundred percent gay." Blaine sounded shell-shocked, but relieved.

"Are you –"

"Oh, I'm sure. About as sure as I am about the fact that there was barely any chemistry between Nathan and me, apparently. Oh god. Kurt… would you mind if I went now? I think I need to process it all. I… just…"

He looked about ready to burst with emotional overload, and Kurt nodded.

"Sure. Come on, we'll go together."

They didn't talk as they descended the stairs, but Blaine stopped by the door to Kurt's apartment and touched his shoulder with a shy, gentle hand.

"Kurt… Thank you. You really helped me with this. Can we meet for dinner tomorrow or are you still busy? I was going to cook, so maybe even Cooper will be home on time."

A wide grin spread on Kurt's face. He missed their shared moments these past days.

"Absolutely. Just let me know what time and I'll be there."

* * *

Cooper wasn't home yet when Kurt arrived near eight the next evening.

"He said he should just be an hour more," Blaine said after he opened the door to let Kurt in. "Well, his loss. I'm making stuffed peppers, they should be ready in ten minutes."

A delicious aroma was already permeating the air as Kurt settled at the kitchen table, nursing a tall glass of ice-cold water. He watched Blaine dance around the kitchen, humming as he finished the preparations with an ease of someone used to cooking. Another surprise, and Kurt honestly wondered how many more the boy had up his sleeve.

"Looks like you're good at kitchen management," he smiled at him when Blaine leaned against the counter opposite, taking a sip of his orange juice.

"I've learned over the years. My parents aren't really the cooking type – they mostly either eat out or order in, and usually just leave me money to do the same. And there's only so many times you can eat pizza or Chinese from the same places before you feel sick just thinking about them. So I taught myself to cook what I like. It's nice, being able to take care of yourself."

Kurt's first reaction was to say that teenagers shouldn't _have to_ take care of themselves in such basic ways as homemade food, but thought better of it. Try as he might, he couldn't fix the world. Not everyone was blessed with a family like his.

Instead, he just looked at Blaine, trying to assess his mood after last night's events, and was relieved to see him rested and relaxed, no visible evidence of a hard night. Well, good. Maybe a bit surprising, but good nonetheless. It was enough that _he_ hadn't been able to sleep well after their... conversation on the roof. Even now, he was feeling guilty every time he glanced at Blaine.

No, not because they'd kissed – it wasn't like he'd forced anything, and a kiss was simply a kiss. You could kiss a stranger in a club, or your best friend, and it didn't necessarily mean anything.

It wasn't even because – after tossing and turning for the longest time, plagued by the images of Blaine's lips and thoughts of how good they'd feel, and how perfect they'd look around Kurt's cock – he'd finally given in and brought himself to a quick, messy orgasm fantasizing about a boy he shouldn't think of this way; a thing he'd resisted doing even after the fitting in the theater last Saturday.

No, the problem was that the urge, the fascination hadn't gone away like it was supposed to have after giving in – that the moment Blaine opened the door tonight, Kurt wanted to pull him into another kiss, and then rid him of those indecently well-fitting clothes, lay him over Coop's kitchen table and show him how much more Kurt could give him.

The problem was that with every word from Blaine's mouth Kurt remembered that little moan and ached to hear it again, hear it louder, hear Blaine fall apart under his fingers and lips.

The _problem _was that Kurt had been hard from the moment he'd entered the apartment and when Blaine bent a moment later to take the food out of the oven, Kurt had to bite his lip so that he wouldn't moan himself, positively desperate to run his fingers down that perfect round ass. To sneak them under those dark jeans and deeper, deep, to unravel this boy completely like no one ever had.

God, who knew Kurt had a thing for virgins? Because that had to be it, right? The forbidden fruit, the desire to show Blaine the pleasures of everything Kurt knew...

Man, he needed to get laid.

* * *

"I meant to ask you something about last night," Blaine started as they sat to eat a moment later, and Kurt tensed. He hoped Blaine wouldn't ask what it meant for Kurt, because right now, he wasn't sure himself. "Did you mean what you said?"

Oh. Then it wasn't about the kiss.

"Yes. Which part?" He answered without hesitation and Blaine made a funny face. "What? I _did _mean everything I said, but if you want me to elaborate on anything in particular, I need to know which part you're asking about."

Blaine nodded and ate a bit of his pepper before answering.

"You said that even if I am bi, there's nothing wrong with it."

"Of course there isn't. What would it change?" Kurt noticed the nonchalantly used grammar trap and ran with it. _Good one_. "I mean, it could change quite a bit for you, obviously, and take some getting used to, but other than that? We are what we are – gay, straight, bi, pan, trans, ace or anything in between – and it's okay."

"Plenty of people would disagree." Blaine was playing with a grain of rice, moving it all around his plate.

"I know." Kurt said softly. "But the thing is, you don't have to fit into other people's expectations, or even declare and name what you are for their sake. It's what _you_ believe that matters. The only acceptance you truly need is your own."

"It gets lonely when you're not accepted by most though." Blaine still wasn't looking at him.

"I know." Oh, did he know. "Sometimes it takes a while to find people who accept and love us the way we are, and I don't just mean the sexuality part – all of us. But in the end, it's worth every minute of waiting."

"I think I'm starting to learn that."

Blaine looked up at last, his eyes bright and earnest. He was clearly trying to sound nonchalant, and failing. Kurt felt something in his throat catch at the vulnerability of his open, trusting face. He reached and laid his hand on Blaine's.

"I'm glad to hear that."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Fireworks were blooming on the dark sky over Central Park, and something in Blaine's chest seemed to be blooming too, rising and opening, and growing deep into his heart. He'd never felt anything quite like it before. It was brand new, and a little scary in its intensity, but exhilarating all the same.

All around, there were people – in groups and couples, standing or sitting on blankets scattered all over the grass, as far as he could see. Blaine felt something warm and hopeful when he observed how many of them were same-sex couples, often with children, and how safe and unrestricted they seemed to feel here – out in the open, in a crowd of people, celebrating independence together.

But mostly, he looked at Kurt; his dark, elegant silhouette just a few feet beside him, illuminated by the red-green-blue-silver of the fireworks, talking with his friends, laughing. And secretly, he wished they were alone in the crowd here, without Cooper or Sebastian for company. He wished he could take Kurt's hand, or kiss his soft, warm lips, feel that thrill and that closeness again.

That night on the roof, it had felt like everything was falling in its place under Kurt's touch, and Blaine had never felt anything so _right_ before. It was like he'd found where he belonged. That one kiss had left him tingling and wanting, gasping for breath, but at the same time he felt calm and certain, and safe. It was as if he had Kurt under his skin now, a feeling that still hadn't truly faded, but sparked with intensity whenever Kurt was near, and Blaine was pretty sure what it meant.

For the first time in his life, he was in love.

* * *

Sebastian nudged Kurt with a sharp elbow to the ribs, causing him to tear his eyes from the bursts of sparks overhead and glare.

"I swear, if I have a bruise –"

"Then I'll kiss it all better. Although, there may be another volunteer." Seb whispered with a smirk and jerked his head to the side, where Blaine had been sitting quietly all evening. Kurt looked at him just in time to catch the boy's eye, and smiled before turning back to Sebastian.

"You're delusional."

"Sure I am. He's been eyefucking you since we got here. Looks like Coop's baby brother has it bad for you, babe. Aww, how adorable. And he's such a pretty little bird, too!"

Kurt felt heat spread over his face. With any luck, the darkness and random flashes of the fireworks would hide the evidence of what his own traitorous mind had been doing lately. He _still_ needed to get laid, dammit, but somehow he couldn't find it in him to go to a club and look for a hook-up.

"Maybe you should go get your eyes checked," he muttered with more conviction than he felt.

Sebastian just chuckled. The bastard.

"Yeah, right. I know what I see. And don't tell me it doesn't sound tempting – I bet he'd look gorgeous tied to your bed in nothing but that bowtie, all eager and ready for you to ride him. Mmm, that's a nice picture –"

The sharp smack up Sebastian's head might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it drew everyone's attention away from the groan that threatened to rip from Kurt's throat. He _really_ didn't need any more visuals. His mind had been providing him with more than enough lately.

And his body approved – so, _so_ much.

* * *

Love was turning out to be much more complicated than Blaine thought.

For starters – what should he do with his newly discovered feelings? Should he keep them secret and remain Kurt's friend, silently hoping for more, soaking in every bit of closeness, every hint of affection, like he had so far?

Or should he risk rejection, maybe ridicule, and tell Kurt? Was there even a small chance that Kurt returned his feelings? It was hard to imagine, but... He _did _kiss him, didn't he?

In the end, it was the fact that they had always talked honestly that helped him make the decision.

Now there was only the problem of how and when. He considered asking Kurt out, maybe taking him for a romantic walk or playing a perfectly chosen song for him, but in the end... Well, he was a blurter, okay? He blurted things out.

"God, I'm so in love with you."

Kurt looked at him shocked, incredulous, over the big bunch of jasmine he'd just bought from a street vendor and had been smelling, yellow pollen all over his nose.

"What did you say?"

"I... I'm in love with you?"

Kurt's stricken expression felt like a punch. He was trying to say something, his lips working over words that didn't come, and Blaine hated that he was already feeling the sting in his eyes. No, he wouldn't cry. He'd known it would probably end like this, and now he'd take it like a man.

Kurt touched his shoulder with a hesitant hand.

"Blaine, I – Come on, let's get back to my place, and we'll talk over coffee."

So Kurt wanted to spare him the humiliation of being rejected in public at least. That was nice of him. Blaine nodded and followed Kurt the two blocks home, steeling himself for the conversation.

They didn't even get to the coffee, just sat at the kitchen table, the jasmine forgotten on the counter, before Kurt took a deep breath and spoke carefully.

"Blaine... You have a _crush _on me. You just met me three weeks ago, you're fresh out of your first relationship, it's only natural to look at other guys for a rebound. But it's not love – it's just attraction, infatuation maybe. You know that, right?"

This was probably the worst thing Kurt could have said, no matter how gentle his face was, how kind his tone. How could he know? He was treating Blaine like a child who didn't know his own feelings, and it felt _awful_. It made him angry.

"It's not –"

"Blaine." The steel determination on Kurt's face didn't reach all the way to his eyes, but Blaine couldn't think about that now. "You are an amazing young man. You're handsome, smart and sweet. You're talented, you make me laugh, and I _really_ care about you. But you're also seventeen; I'm twenty-eight. And your older brother is my best friend. Can you imagine what he'd say if he even knew about that kiss on the roof, let alone if we dated? He wants to protect you from the dangers of the city, all the experienced guys who could seduce and demoralize you, and that includes me."

"Maybe I want to be demoralized." Blaine said stubbornly, crossing his arms, then uncrossing them again. There was no need to behave like a child.

Kurt smiled fleetingly. "I bet you do. But we can't –"

"Would you date me if I was a little older, and not Coop's brother?" He was blurting things out again, but it didn't matter. He needed to know.

Kurt didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

Okay, so it wasn't because of his inadequacy then. Still, it hurt, and he _hated _that the circumstances made him utterly undateable to Kurt. He got up from the chair and nodded stiffly.

"I'd better go then." Not waiting for an answer, he moved towards the door, but stopped before he reached it. "Can we still be friends?"

Kurt's face was soft and sad when he looked at him. "Of course we can. I'm sorry, Blaine."

"Me too."

* * *

The door clicked shut and Kurt slumped in his chair. The distraught look on Blaine's face broke his heart and he hated the fact that he'd been the one to put it there. He'd never wanted to hurt the boy, ever, the tender affection he felt towards him meant his instinct was to protect Blaine from any harm. Which was exactly why he needed to do this in the first place.

Love.

It wasn't love, it couldn't be – not so fast, not for himof all people; he didn't deserve that. Blaine simply had a crush, that was all; he mistook attraction, desire maybe, for something deeper. But because he believed he was in love, it could hurt him so much more, and Kurt wouldn't allow it. Not to mention, he couldn't be anything more than a friend to Blaine anyway, just as he'd told him. It wouldn't be right to follow up on his fantasies, no matter how much he liked Blaine, how much chemistry sparked between them. Especially now, when he knew there were feelings at play here. Blaine deserved much better than Kurt could give him.

Plus, he couldn't be the one to teach Coop's innocent kid brother all about sex. He wasn't suicidal, after all. Cooper may seem harmless, but it was a cover; when crossed, he was a force to be feared. God, if he could read Kurt's thoughts sometimes...

So, saying _no_ to Blaine's confession, despite the way his heart had fluttered at hearing it, was the right thing to do. The _only_ thing he could do. Now he could just hope Blaine would get over it easily, and they'd be able to stay friends.

It seemed to work that way, too. A few days later Blaine dropped by with a smile and an announcement that he wanted to ask Kurt for advice. Which he was perfectly fine with giving, of course.

Until he heard the request.

* * *

"You want to do _what_?"

"I want to go to a gay bar." Blaine looked annoyingly content with himself, as if he hadn't just come up with the most stupid idea Kurt had heard in months. He took a piece of paper out of his bag. "I did my research, and I have a list of those that don't check IDs too diligently, and I was hoping you could tell me which one would be best."

"No." Huh. Kurt didn't know he even had a _parent voice_ in him, but he sounded surprisingly like his own dad now.

"No, as in you don't know? You haven't even looked at my list yet."

"No, as in you're _not_ going to a gay bar." Even to his own ears it sounded wrong. Blaine must have thought so too, because he crossed his arms and looked at Kurt defiantly.

"Kurt, you're not my father, you can't forbidme. And I hoped that, as my friend, you could give me a hint here – I mean, you must have been in some of these places, right? But if you can't do that, that's fine. I'll read some more on the internet."

Kurt ground his teeth and tried to reign in the vehement protest that kept bubbling in his chest at the mere thought of _Blaine _in a _gay bar_. This was not the way to convince him. He spoke more calmly now, placating.

"You're right, I'm not your father and I have no right to tell you what to do. But as your friend who cares about you, I'm telling you that this is a very bad idea. Yes, I've been in gay bars before, and yes, they can be fun places. But _you_ going there, _alone_? It would be like sending a fluffy white sheep to dance with the wolves."

Blaine just raised an eyebrow. "If you mean that I'm too young –"

"Of _course_ you're too young, why do you think there are age limits there? And not checking IDs is an instant disqualification; it's like an invitation for all kinds of perverts. But it's not just that – don't take it the wrong way, but you practically radiate _innocent_ and _vulnerable_, and with how gorgeous you are? That's the worst combination possible, Blaine. For a gay bar, at least." Kurt noticed he was raising his voice again and lowered it back to a normal level. "The men would be all over you in an instant, and not everyone goes there just to dance, you know."

"Have you thought it may be what I want? To have some fun? Maybe you're right, maybe it is a rebound thing. But so what? Maybe I need to get it out of my system. You're not interested, so I want to look somewhere else."

Fuck. This was _so_ not what Kurt hoped would happen; he meant to protect Blaine, not send him over to strangers who would have no problem with him being seventeen. He felt panic slowly crawl through his insides as Blaine continued angrily.

"Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to want nothing more than to finally _look_ at your boyfriend, to undress him, touch him... and then have someone come in on you before you ever get to do it? The only thing we managed to do was get off together a few times, grinding against each other in a hurry, with my mom downstairs and the door open. And I'm sick of waiting and being good, and I live in _Westerville_, Kurt. I don't have much to hope for in ways of a relationship there. I'm looking at another year of being lonely, horny, and having only my right hand for company. So forgive me if I want to use the time I have here to get some more."

Wow. That was intense. And hot, but that was not the point.

"But why like this? In a dirty stall or a dark alley behind the bar? Or in some stranger's room, someone you've never seen before and most likely never will again? Is that what you want for your first time? Not to mention how risky it is. You deserve so much better, Blaine. You deserve someone who will listen to you and take care of you, and give you what you want. You deserve gentle and beautiful, and memorable. You should have loving touches in the right circumstances, not a hurried fuck with a stranger in a gay bar."

Suddenly, there were angry tears in Blaine's eyes and his voice was rough, breaking over a sob. "Well I can't have that, can I? I'm _too_ _young_, and I'm an _Anderson_. So yeah. Whatever."

The door slammed shut, leaving Kurt alone in a stunned silence.

* * *

Blaine left Kurt's building with anger boiling hot in his chest, choking him with suppressed sobs. It wasn't fair! Kurt could sleep with anyone he wanted, could go to any gay bar or club, or wherever, and pick up men to have glorious, unrestrained sex. He could kiss his best friend in a coffee bar and not mean anything by it. He could friend-zone Blaine and dismiss his feelings, and still sleep well and be fine, and move on like nothing happened. And yet, he dared to censor _Blaine's _sex life, even though he wanted to have nothing to do with it. It wasn't _fair_.

By the time he got to his room, the first tendrils of reason were already worming their way back to his brain, but Blaine stomped them out furiously. No! Maybe he was acting out and behaving immaturely, but so what, he was _seventeen_, after all, he may as well act like it, since being mature for his age evidently didn't mean anything. Tomorrow was Friday, and he would tell Cooper he was going to the movie marathon that he saw advertised yesterday, and that he would come home late. And instead, he'd go to a gay bar of his choosing, dance, have fun and relax, and maybe – just maybe – go a little wild. Not all the way – of course not, he didn't want to go so far with a stranger. In fact –

No. He wasn't a prepubescent girl, dreaming of romantic love and a prince who would be _the one_, the only one to touch and kiss and love him. It was old-fashioned and frankly strange nowadays not to take a chance for casual sex when there was one – or so it seemed, looking all around. So, why not? He'd be careful and smart, and everything would be fine. Better than fine. Definitely.

Kurt called twice in the evening , but Blaine refused to pick up, still stuck in his stubborn anger. He wondered briefly if Kurt would call Cooper instead and tell him of Blaine's plans. But Cooper's phone remained silent on the shelf where it was charging and around midnight, Blaine got a text instead.

_**Kurt Hummel:**__ I'm sorry. Just... be safe. Please._

He answered with a short _I will _and went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be an important day.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

The club didn't look like Blaine had imagined it would after reading the superlatives about _hot strippers _and _excellent atmosphere_, and how it was _the classiest of the "easily accessible" ones_. For one, the area looked shady, to put it mildly; the street was narrow, dark and littered, and the buildings on both sides in rather desperate need of repair. The bar itself, called _Rainbow Unicorn_ of all things, had a recent coat of paint on the front, but it didn't improve the first impression much. There was loud, pounding music pouring out the open door, and a meaty, middle-aged man with a hung-over look, who didn't even pretend to check the people coming in. He was leaning against the wall with a bored expression, like he was there just for show. Which he probably was.

It was just after ten thirty when Blaine arrived, since he didn't want to come too early. The volatile mixture of excitement and nerves that had been making him giddy and jumpy all day was currently turning into a heavy weight of anxiety. Suddenly, he had doubts – nothing so bad it would change his mind, but enough to exhale with relief when he saw a small coffee shop on the other side of the street from the bar. He'd just drink some coffee, maybe eat a sandwich or something since he'd been unable to swallow a bite of his dinner tonight, and then man up and go into the _Unicorn_.

The little old lady who brought his latte (though it looked – and tasted – suspiciously like bad drip coffee with plenty of milk) to the table by the window asked in a conspiratorially lowered voice, "Do you want condoms, too?"

"Excuse me?" Blaine felt himself getting beet red; the waitress could have been his grandma.

"Condoms. We sell them. It's quite a business since they always seem to have their vending machine broken or empty." She jerked her head towards the building opposite. "Plenty of young people come to buy them here. Do you want some?"

"Um, no, thanks. I'm good." He didn't need condoms, he wasn't going to–

Ugh, maybe it _was_ a bad idea.

The waitress shook her head sadly and left him alone, and Blaine settled for watching the bar on the other side of the street and sipping his coffee.

Within the next hour, as his brain was gradually taking over, he'd seen enough to dismiss the idea of going in entirely. There were kids clearly no more than fourteen going in without the bouncer batting an eyelash. There was a small alley next to the bar where every now and then giggling, half-undressed couples disappeared, only to return moments later. There were at least half a dozen people dropping by the coffee shop to buy condoms, some of them clearly regulars. It was every possible cliché about sad, seedy gay bars possible – and the night was still young; Blaine didn't even want to think what it would be like later.

At midnight, he got out of the coffee shop and called for a cab. He owed someone an apology.

* * *

Blaine let himself into Kurt's building, but once he reached the apartment door, he found himself stalling. He wanted to apologize, to tell Kurt that he'd been right, but he kept running out of words – everything sounded stupid and not enough after his yesterday's tantrum. Maybe he should just go home instead and try tomorrow? It was late, anyway, and –

Recognizing his hesitation for what it was, Blaine took a deep breath and just knocked. Ready or not, he wouldn't chicken out like a scared kid.

The door swung open seconds later, revealing Kurt – pink-cheeked, messy-haired, with slightly dazed eyes and two top buttons of his shirt open, flashing an expanse of fair skin. For a short, terror-filled moment Blaine wondered if he interrupted something; Kurt looked so _sexy_, loose and relaxed in ways which Blaine wasn't used to. But the surprise on Kurt's face was a happy one, at least until fear clouded the blue of his irises and furrowed his forehead.

"Blaine! Are you alright?"

Oh. Right. Blaine nodded quickly, all the rehearsed words of his apology forgotten. Kurt was _worried_ about him.

"I'm fine, everything's fine. I know it's late, I just wanted to apologize for behaving like a brat yesterday. I'm sorry, Kurt, I –"

He didn't finish as a strong hand took his and pulled him into the apartment, right into Kurt's embrace. He heard the door shut behind him, but didn't pay it much attention because all of his senses were suddenly filled with Kurt: his scent, the heady mixture of products and something so very _him_; the softness of his skin against Blaine's cheek and the strength of Kurt's arms around him; the steady, strong heartbeat he could hear so clearly as he pressed his face into the crook of Kurt's neck.

For a long while they just stood like this, until Blaine felt his tense muscles relax, the anxiety flow out of his body easily, all at once. The realization that it had been years since he'd been truly hugged by anyone shocked him – it'd been so long that he'd forgotten how much of a comfort it was, how perfect it felt. It wasn't even because it was Kurt – it was the simple, basic act of being hugged, held close by someone who cared about you, without any erotic context. He let out a shaky breath and Kurt's arms tightened around him for a brief second before releasing him.

Kurt looked at him curiously, still so close that Blaine could kiss him just by leaning slightly forward. He resisted the temptation.

"You don't smell like a bar. Cooper said you planned to be out until late tonight, I thought –"

Blaine tried to look away but couldn't, lost in the stormy-blue trap of Kurt's eyes.

"I didn't go. I mean, I did, but I didn't even go in." He shifted awkwardly. "You were right, Kurt. That's not what I want. Not like that."

However he'd expected Kurt to react (_"I told you so"? "Good to know, now go, I have more interesting things to do"?_), the soft heat of his lips had never been part of it. Yet here it was, a kiss like the one that made Blaine a helpless addict after the first taste last week, and he took it without question, diving into the sweetness and the passion that was Kurt unrestrained, until his mind finally caught up to his senses and he broke the kiss, a little breathless already.

"Kurt. Kurt, wait. Are you drunk?" He hated to deliberately give up this closeness, but Kurt tasted like orange juice and liquor, and Blaine wouldn't use his moment of weakness if it was something he would regret later.

Kurt sighed and moved away to the kitchen, where he took a half-empty glass of orange liquid from the counter and emptied it at the sink.

"A bit. I was worried." He turned back to Blaine, his face soft. "And when I'm worried, my imagination takes over and – I just needed to distract myself. I don't want you to get hurt, Blaine."

Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away from that bit of skin peeking from Kurt's open collar, from his lips, kiss-red and lush. Arousal was spreading through him in a buzzing wave and he tried to reign it in, but it wasn't easy, with a view like that right before his eyes.

"I'm fine, don't worry – and I'm not going there again, I promise." He answered distractedly.

"I don't just mean that, though." Kurt took the few steps, closing the distance between them again. He lay his hand over Blaine's heart, making him draw a shuddering breath. "_I_ don't want to hurt you. But... I like you way more than I should, and I want you so much that it's indecent, and I shouldn't tell you this, but clearly my filter is off tonight. And it would be much safer if you went home now."

He was whispering just millimeters from Blaine's lips, his every breath raising tiny hairs on Blaine's neck with delicious shivers, and _oh_, was he saying what Blaine thought he was saying?

"You should go home and come back tomorrow when I'm sober and in control again, responsible enough to resist you because that's what I'm supposed to do here."

Blaine felt light-headed, his blood thrumming with desire. "What if I don't want to go?"

Kurt was breathing fast and shallow. His hand tightened into the fabric of the henley on Blaine's chest, the other slid up the side of Blaine's neck to tangle into the loose hair on the nape of his head, making him moan quietly in the back of his throat.

"What if I hurt you?" Kurt's eyes were wide and dark, searching.

Blaine took a deep breath. "I'll take that risk."

His arms closed around Kurt's waist, pulling him into another kiss.

* * *

Kurt was drunk, that was true. But it wasn't the level of drunk where his brain was incapable of making decisions and his body took over, feverish and carefree. It wasn't the kind where he woke up in the morning hung-over in a stranger's bed, wincing and angry at himself, because he didn't _do_ mornings, and certainly not with random guys whose main appeal the previous night had been that they'd been there and interested.

No, it wasn't that kind of drunk. It was just the kind where the world seemed simple and fuzzy around the edges; where everything felt light and bright, every feeling and thought clear, distilled. It was the state where Kurt's overly analytical brain took a break from his worries and his body reacted with pure enthusiasm, forgetting about boundaries and social expectations.

The point was, Kurt knew exactly what he was doing – he just consciously chose not to care. By the time he allowed himself to melt into Blaine's embrace, he'd already absolved himself for following his instincts and accepted any and all potential consequences. And now, he only focused on experiencing.

Kissing Blaine was like erasing years of sex just for the sake of getting off – all those guys, dozens of them, that meant nothing in the long run – and returning to the pure, unadulterated _joy_ of intimate contact. This was how it felt; this was what _Blaine_ felt like. Blaine, who put all of himself into kissing, passionate yet innocent, making Kurt feel it everywhere, from the hairs rising on the nape of his neck to the tingling in his toes. It felt like nothing else mattered, like kissing wasn't just a means to an end – and with a start, Kurt realized that for Blaine, it wasn't. No matter what it was that Blaine actually felt for him, he seemed eager to take however much or little Kurt was ready to give him, and enjoy every second of it.

Kurt had no idea why this was proving to be such a turn-on for him – not Blaine's innocence and inexperience, but his lack of expectations. It reminded him of years ago with his first few boyfriends; all the fun of exploring and learning, before sex had become something mundane, almost routine. His pants were getting increasingly tighter already, his knees quickly getting to the point of feeling weak, and it was just kissing, jeez...

"Bedroom, come on." His voice sounded rough and gravelly even to his own ears and Kurt didn't wait for a reply as he took Blaine's hand and pulled him in the right direction. Kissing while horizontal was better, after all.

It _was _better; it was _incredible_ – with Blaine stretched under him, whispering his name like a prayer while Kurt took his time kissing and licking down his neck and across his collarbones, as far down as the neckline of his henley allowed. Blaine's hands were flexing against Kurt's back, little moans escaping him as his hips jerked up against Kurt's thigh every time he discovered another particularly delicious spot of Blaine's skin, and after a while it just wasn't enough – Kurt needed more like he needed air. He pulled back to look into the golden eyes beneath him.

"Tell me what you want."

"To see you. Please." The answer was immediate and Kurt was pretty sure he understood, but he wanted to be certain.

Okay, he just wanted to hear Blaine say it.

"See me how?" His voice was even lower now and Blaine's breathing stuttered for a moment before he specified.

"See you... naked?" It came out as a question with Blaine's voice breaking at the end, as if he was afraid to even ask for so little.

Of course, what wasn't much for Kurt was a whole new world of experience for Blaine, and Kurt was more than eager to accommodate him.

He used to be self-conscious about his body, but that was years behind him now; he felt good in his skin. So there was no hesitation in his moves as he slid off the bed and quickly unbuttoned his shirt before shrugging it off completely and reaching to open his pants. Blaine's wide-eyed expression was full of awed adoration, and _god_, Kurt loved seeing what effect he had on him.

Without any silly striptease moves (he'd tried those, once, and felt absolutely ridiculous; it just wasn't _him_), Kurt slid down his pants, his hands quick and well-practiced. He heard a sharp intake of breath when he bent to take them off completely, and when he straightened back up, Blaine was squirming on the bed, clearly uncomfortable in his deliciously tight jeans. Kurt swallowed a moan; his cock was twitching in the confines of his navy briefs at the thought of Blaine hard and aroused. He wanted the boy so much – to see, touch, taste... To unravel him over and over again; to make him feel wanted and happy, and _loved_.

_Whoa, slow down, tiger_.

He pushed his briefs off and climbed back on the bed. "Do I get to see you naked too?"

* * *

Kurt hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his briefs and Blaine let out a choked sound, his hand flying to press against the fly of his jeans by its own volition. He was about to see him at last, and _fuck_, it felt like this was enough to make him come. In one fluid motion, Kurt slid the briefs down and off, and then there it was. Kurt's cock – large and thick, gloriously hard, with pubic hair neatly trimmed – it was so much better than Blaine had imagined (and he'd imagined plenty), so much more amazing than what he'd ever seen in porn. He could hear his own needy whimper, could feel his own cock ache with desire, but he didn't care, too busy committing this moment to memory. Kurt, naked and more beautiful than any man Blaine had ever known, standing there just for him. It felt like he'd died and gone to heaven – and if this was heaven, he didn't mind dying at all.

He heard Kurt's low, slightly breathless voice say as if through a thick fog, "Do I get to see you naked too?"

The bed shifted and the next moment Kurt was kneeling in front of him, the head of his cock swaying not two feet from Blaine's face, and if he could just lean in and taste… The thought alone was like pouring oil on the flames of his need.

"Yes_._"_ Whatever you ask me to do. However you want me._

He jumped off the bed, awkward in his rush, Kurt's eyes on him making his face heat up. His henley was on the floor in seconds, his jeans joined it after a moment of graceless, hurried fight with the tight legs, and then he hesitated just for a second before losing the boxers, too, and for the first time stood completely bare in front of another man.

If he felt uncertain at first, a shadow of self-consciousness, one look at Kurt's flushed face was enough to smother it completely. He was kneeling on the bed and stroking himself slowly, watching Blaine with dark, hungry eyes.

"Gorgeous."

Just one word, but it meant more than all compliments Blaine had ever received put together. Biting his lip, he got back up on the bed, his cock brushing against the covers, causing a sharp hiss to escape his mouth. God, he was so aroused it hurt. And the fact that Kurt's hand had sped up and soft little moans were escaping his lips now didn't help in the slightest.

Blaine was about to settle back against the headboard when Kurt reached and pulled him closer instead, and before he realized what was going on, they were kneeling face to face. And then his hand was put in place of Kurt's and he was so shocked that he froze. Blood was pounding in his ears, his breath was coming in shallow little pants and only Kurt's hoarse whisper in his ear brought him back into action.

"Come on, beautiful, you can do whatever you want."

The words were followed by a sharp little bite to his earlobe, centering him again. Summoning the last shreds of his composure, Blaine focused on Kurt – on his cock heavy and impossibly smooth in Blaine's hand, just a little too thick to encircle it fully in his fist; on the way Kurt closed his eyes and moaned when he moved his hand experimentally. Their position wasn't exactly comfortable, so Blaine improvised, inspired by his dreams and fantasies.

"Can you lie down?"

Kurt did so immediately, leaning back until he lay on the pillows, and reached to the bedside drawer for a bottle of lubricant that he pushed into Blaine's palm. A bit of fumbling with the cap and then Blaine was kneeling by Kurt's side, one hand stroking him with growing confidence, the other daring to ghost over Kurt's neck and chest, circling a nipple, tracing a collarbone. He acted on instinct, experimenting with touch, grip, speed, and listening for feedback, stubbornly focusing on Kurt only, ignoring his own desperate need. He wanted so much more, wanted to lie down beside Kurt and kiss him everywhere, taste his skin and his sweat, and – _god, yes_ – his come. But it felt so intimate, _too_ intimate when Blaine had no idea what it was between them. For all he knew, for Kurt it might be just another hook-up, a one-time thing, and while he was happy to have even this, he restricted himself to hands only. Getting too far, too deep, would just hurt too much when Kurt told him tomorrow it had been a mistake.

Judging by the way Kurt was moaning, almost keening constantly now, Blaine must have been doing something right. He watched, fascinated, as Kurt's pink nipples tightened into hard little buds, as the muscles in his belly started to tremble and his back arched. But then Kurt opened his eyes and whispered _Blaine_, and his warm, firm hand was on Blaine's cock, and it felt like it was created just to be there, the perfect touch. Barely a few strokes and Blaine felt the hot press of his orgasm gathering, rushing through him. He tried to move away, to avoid splashing come all over Kurt's perfect skin while still stroking him with a hand that was shaking now, but Kurt stopped him immediately.

"Stay, I want you to – Stay here, yes, _god_ _yes _– "

Blaine wasn't sure which one of them came first. Everything was muted and yet so intense – blood pulsing hard through him, red darkness as he squeezed his eyes shut, sticky warmth and the bliss that felt more perfect than anything, ever.

* * *

Kurt felt honestly stunned. In all his years in New York, he'd had plenty of sex: a few boyfriends, multiple one-night stands, even one fiancé. Want, desire – they were nothing new to him, and he hardly denied himself, even though the last weeks had been uncharacteristically chaste. But it'd been years since he last felt like _this_, his blood boiling just from kissing, touching, seeing his lover's reactions. It took every ounce of his willpower not to try and slide his cock between Blaine's puffy lips, so invitingly parted in awe as he watched Kurt strip the last bit of his clothing.

And Blaine probably wouldn't have said _no_, he knew. But Kurt was very aware that he couldn't do this. Even if he put aside all the other doubts he had – the age difference, Cooper, all that – Kurt, even when tipsy, was way too responsible to do anything more than what they just did. Blaine was a virgin. Kurt, though always careful, had an extensive sexual past. He wouldn't put the boy in danger, no matter how improbable. Before they went anywhere further – _if_ they would – he needed to make sure he was clean. This was the first thing he thought as soon as he came down from his earthshaking orgasm (and god, what was it with this boy? It was _just a handjob_, how could it have felt more intense than any sexual experience he'd had in a long time?)

Blaine was still trembling and dazed, kneeling by his side, and Kurt sat up to embrace him and gently pull him down to the bed beside him. They lay there for a long while, breathing heavily, barely touching, but connected in the way good sex can accomplish. Kurt was starting to doze off, lazily contemplating just pulling the duvet over them and cleaning the mess in the morning, but then he felt Blaine shifting away from him and sitting up. He opened his sleepy eyes.

The boy looked contented and a little shell-shocked, but he was already reaching for his clothes on the floor. Kurt felt a little pang of regret – yes, he hated the morning awkwardness, and usually preferred to part ways with his lovers right after sex, but tonight he felt like snuggling, and Blaine was warm and beautiful, and smelled so nice… Shaking off the unusual bout of feelings, Kurt stretched and asked.

"Are you going already?" A beat of hesitation, then, "You can stay if you want."

Blaine wouldn't look at him, and this was never a good sign. Sleepiness suddenly forgotten, Kurt sat up on the bed, concerned. Did he miscalculate? Misunderstand Blaine's eagerness? Did he take advantage of him, god forbid?

"Blaine?"

He looked at Kurt then, and his eyes were warm and full of emotion, a smile on his face small and shy. He seemed alright.

"I'm gonna go. I don't want Cooper to worry if he wakes up, and… I think it's better if I go now, okay? Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt nodded. A soft, silly part of him wished it wasn't so, wanted to convince Blaine to stay, but he shushed it. This _was_ better.

"Thank _you_. And be careful on the way back, okay? Send me a text so that I know you got home safely."

"I will. I'll be fine."

Dressed already, Blaine hesitated a second before opening the bedroom door. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling on a soft "Bye." Before Kurt could answer, he was gone. Only the sound of a key in the lock let him know that Blaine let himself out and locked the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: **_Surprise one: Look, I'm updating on a Saturday!_

_Surprise two: I'm switching to daily updates now that my wonderful beta is so far ahead of my posting schedule. If everything goes well, with no unexpected delays, we should have a chapter a day right until November 8 for you - just a little attempt to sweeten the rest of this damn hiatus ;)_

_I hope you enjoy the rest of this story - thank you for all your wonderful reviews and comments, they always make my day!_

* * *

** CHAPTER 8**

They barely got to see each other the following week, and when they did, Kurt looked like he was about to keel over from exhaustion. It was the week leading up to the premiere and Kurt practically lived at the theater, sitting in on dress rehearsals, adding final changes and alterations to costumes, sewing a few additional ones in a hurry when there was a last minute change in the director's vision. Blaine knew how busy and tired Kurt was, so when he dropped by the theater a few times this week, always with fresh coffee and a bagel for him, or some fruit, he didn't touch the subject of _That Night_.

Blaine had feared the _Morning After_ talk just as much as he felt hopeful for it, but it had never come. They'd met for lunch the next day, but it was with Cooper and Sebastian, and Kurt had been his normal friendly self – no meaningful looks, but no avoiding Blaine's eyes, either – and everything seemed like the night before had never happened. Except Blaine knew it had, his lips still tingled whenever he looked at Kurt, he could feel the phantom touch of Kurt's hand on his cock, half-hard just from the memories, could describe with tiniest detail the way Kurt looked and felt, and sounded. And when Sebastian leaned in to kiss Kurt good morning, the fierce protest almost choked Blaine, trying to escape his lips.

Kurt hadn't said anything about it since, busy with work, and Blaine wasn't going to pester him, no matter how much he wanted to know where they stood; just as he wasn't going to kiss Kurt's temple tenderly when leaving him laboring over the machine, or reach and fix his hair, tousled from running his fingers through in frustration. He wanted to – god, he did, his fingers itching to touch, lips drawn to kiss – but it wouldn't be fair to add more complications to Kurt's already rough week.

He was almost certain he knew what he would hear, anyway. That Friday night, he'd forced himself out of Kurt's bed and returned home as soon as possible because he was afraid to hear that it had been a mistake, a one-time thing, and could they please go back to being just friends? Blaine knew it was the most likely scenario, he'd thought he was prepared for it, but not right then. Not when all he wanted was to relive and cherish what just happened, as beautiful and breathtaking as it was, not tainted with rejection or regrets. Not in the moment when he felt so open and vulnerable, his heart and every nerve exposed, pulsing with emotions he couldn't contain. He'd been pretty sure that if he got rejected right then, he might have actually died. So he'd gone home.

But now, after six torturous days of alternating between _Of course it was just a one-night stand for him_ and _But... he said he liked me!_, Blaine felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He needed to know, one way or another, whatever it was – he just needed to _know_. But all he got so far was more confusion as Kurt called today – Thursday – sounding bubbly and bright, well rested at last, to tell Blaine he was taking him to the show premiere tomorrow evening. And Blaine was excited, of course he was, and he asked all the right questions about dress code and what time they should meet and where, but he didn't ask the one he really wanted to, so he still didn't know.

Was it a date?

It seemed like one – they were going alone, just the two of them, all dressed up, to a Broadway premiere; and it sounded so classy, so perfect for a first date... except it most likely wasn't. Kurt was going because he worked there, because this musical was what he'd put all of his time and effort into these past weeks and now he could finally sit back and enjoy the effect, letting other people worry. And he was taking Blaine, because... well, Blaine had told him how much he wanted to see a Broadway musical, hadn't he? And Kurt probably had a spare ticket, so he decided to be thoughtful. Yes, that was most likely it. No need to get his hopes up.

But he still couldn't stop thinking about it, his dreams that night filled with Kurt's kisses, his breathy voice, his hands and lips teasing in ways Blaine didn't dare to ask for that night, and he woke up desperately hard and needy the next morning, but most of all, overwhelmed with feelings. Because Kurt was sex incarnated, yes, but he was so much more. Blaine wanted him to be more.

The day after such a night could only be filled with emotional turmoil, with desperate hope, excitement and anxiety battling for domination in his heart. By the time Kurt came to pick him up (_like he would for a date, right?_), Blaine had had enough. As soon as he regained his ability to speak – because Kurt Hummel dressed up was a view that should have books written about it – the question spilled out of him as if a dam had burst.

"Kurt, what are we?"

The bright, approving smile that Kurt gave him as he came in and eyed Blaine's simple, yet stylish outfit was fading now, and Kurt sighed, not even trying to deflect the question.

"I was going to talk to you about it tonight, actually. I wanted to wait until after the show, though – no need to distract you and spoil the fun, don't you think?"

That didn't sound promising, but no matter what Kurt had to say, Blaine just wanted it out, _now_.

"I don't think I can get more distracted. I keep thinking about you and me, and that night, and what you said, and... Just tell me, Kurt. What is this between us?"

Kurt nodded, his face solemn as he entered the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. He leaned against the counter opposite Blaine and took a drink. The silence was stretching between them, heavy with tension. Finally, Kurt spoke.

"Okay. What do _you_ want it to be?"

The question surprised Blaine, shook him into momentary speechlessness. He was expecting a simple _yes_ or _no_, _friends_ or _lovers_, a decision he would have to take and accept. Instead, Kurt asked _him _– and in spite of all his dreams and hopes, he didn't know what to say. Was _forever_ a stupid answer? Of course it was, coming from someone you'd known for mere weeks, and a teenager at that. What then? A relationship? Too vague. Boyfriends? Did they qualify, considering Kurt was hardly a _boy_ anymore?

His struggle for words didn't escape Kurt's searching eyes. He put the bottle on the counter.

"Would you like it to be a date, tonight?" He asked simply and smiled as Blaine's eyes widened in disbelief. "It can be, as long as you don't mind the secrecy part. Because no matter what we say, I don't think Cooper is going to be too understanding."

"Yes." The word was out of his mouth even before Kurt finished talking. "Yes, I'd like that. Very much." He added, to make certain Kurt knew what he meant. And then, just to clarify, he took the two steps between them and kissed him, his heart light and giddy, ready to soar.

Kurt pulled away from the kiss way too fast for Blaine's liking, and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, his face suddenly more serious.

"Wait, I brought this for you, in case you were interested in us being... more."

He handed Blaine a folded piece of paper and waited for him to open it. It was some sort of lab report, plenty of medical abbreviations, and a bold, cursive _negative_ after each and every one. Was it...?

"I just got it this morning, that's why I wanted to talk to you . I needed you to know, wanted to make sure. I'm clean, Blaine. I've been with plenty of men, but I'm safe. So when we get any further than that night, you don't have to worry about this. _If_ we do, I mean – if you want to, at some point."

There was the tiniest bit of anxiety in Kurt's eyes, and Blaine couldn't have that. He moved back into Kurt's space and into another deep kiss, pressing against him in a way he hadn't dared before – and gasping at the delicious friction when his hips moved just-so.

"I _so _do. Can _some point_ be _now_?" He whispered against Kurt's lips between kisses and was amazed to hear him inhale sharply, feel him rapidly hardening against Blaine's hip. The next instant their positions were switched, Blaine's back pressed against the fridge with Kurt sucking lightly on his neck and moving his hips against Blaine's, their erections perfectly slotted together, in a way that made his eyes roll back. And then it stopped; cold, empty space where Kurt had just been, and Blaine whined.

Kurt lay his hand on Blaine's cheek, pressed one soft kiss to his lips, before moving even further away.

"I'd love to – you have no idea how much. But we need to go now or we'll be late, and you don't want to miss your first Broadway show, do you?"

If Blaine was being perfectly honest, right now he didn't really care about the show. He would gladly give up going and spend the evening naked in bed with Kurt. Or just kissing, fully clothed. Or even sitting on a sofa together, barely touching, while he reveled in a fact that they were _dating_. Or whatever they were, _together_. That Kurt liked him, wanted him, that he was thoughtful enough to make sure he was safe for Blaine. That he cared.

Which, actually, he could just as well do in a theater, sitting next to Kurt and watching the show.

* * *

There was a cab parked in front of the building when they came out, though Kurt hadn't called anyone since he'd come to pick Blaine up. Did it mean that the car had been waiting all along? Blaine had no time to express his curiosity because Kurt was already opening the back door and guiding him inside with a gentle hand on the small of his back. He waited for Blaine to settle in and closed the door behind him with a smile before getting in on the other side.

The driver, a young, long-haired blond guy smiled widely. "Hi Kurt! 'Sup?"

"Good evening, Steve." Kurt's tone and demeanor matched his outfit perfectly. "I'm sorry if you had to wait."

"Nah, man. It's cool. Where d'you wanna go?"

"The theater, please."

"Sure thing." The car was already moving, the driver not paying them any more attention, and Blaine started, feeling Kurt's soft, warm hand take his, their fingers intertwining. The gesture, though simple, meant more than anything they shared before, even that night in Kurt's bedroom. It was like a confirmation – this wasn't just fun or sex. They were on a _date_.

But wasn't it supposed to be a secret?

Kurt smiled, seeing the question in Blaine's eyes, and brushed a thumb across his knuckles. "It's okay. Steve is discretion personified."

Steve chuckled from the front seat. "Yeah, I'm deaf and blind here until I hear my name." As if to prove his point, he started singing quietly with the radio, his voice pleasant and surprisingly clear. Blaine pushed away the jagged edges of a thought of how many times Kurt must have driven like this, with how many men, to have tested Steve's discretion so thoroughly. He chose to focus on Kurt's face instead, so beautiful and open as he brought Blaine's hand to his lips to kiss it – soft, languid kisses over his knuckles, down the side of his thumb, to the inside of his wrist where he paused. His tongue flicked out and unhurriedly teased the tender skin over the pulse point, sucking at it lightly, and Blaine's breath stuttered with the pleasure and intimacy of it.

Kurt smiled and lowered their joined hands to his knees where he continued to caress Blaine's palm with feather-light touches of his fingers.

"Will you trust me with plans for tonight?"

"Of course." Blaine's voice came out a little raspy and he cleared his throat, trying to conceal the effect Kurt had on him even with just the touch of his fingertips.

"Thank you."

They rode in silence, only exchanging a sentence or two, but in the meantime, their hands were having a lively conversation. Or, well, maybe it was a monologue, with Kurt's hand continuing the slow, sweet caresses. Somehow it moved to Blaine's thigh at some point and just stayed there, tracing abstract little patterns, almost absent-mindedly. Blaine's hands were by this point restricted to flexing and tightening by his sides as he focused on not whimpering or climbing right into Kurt's lap.

And then they were at the theater, so he got out of the car, straightened his jacket and reminded himself that officially, they were friends. Just friends. Nothing more, in public. Kurt leaned towards the driver before getting out.

"Could you be here at 10:30? I have one more destination in mind for tonight." He said, passing Steve a fifty.

"Sure. See you then."

The car pulled away and they walked towards the well-known building, and into the crowd.

* * *

As exciting as the premiere was, Blaine had trouble focusing on the stage. Part of it might have been the fact that he'd seen the play so many times in rehearsals that he could quote parts of it in his sleep. But mostly, it was Kurt's presence just inches away and the fact that this was a date, that caused everything else to fade into the background, unimportant.

He stole glances at Kurt's lovely profile, sometimes catching him looking back, eyes bright even in the dark and a corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. Every casual, seemingly accidental brush of Kurt's fingers against his on the armrest felt like a low electric current running up his arm and through his body; every time Kurt leaned towards him to whisper something quietly into his ear – a dry-witted comment or, once, a breathy "Have I told you that you look gorgeous tonight?" – Blaine felt his heart quicken and his breath turn shallow. By intermission he honestly hoped that there were no mind-readers around; because frankly, even _thinking_ about a quickie in a Broadway theater's bathroom was probably awfully bad taste, if not sacrilege.

Kurt turned to him as soon as the lights went back up. People around them were leaving their seats, chattering animatedly.

"Do you want to go get some drinks?"

"No. I want to kiss you." _Oh, hello, blurter. Long time no see._

Kurt laughed fondly, but then his eyes widened and he looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "Actually, why not. Let's go."

This was too good to be true. They slipped through the _Staff only _doorand all but ran towards Kurt's workroom. Almost there, Kurt stopped by an old wardrobe crowding the narrow corridor and pulled on a piece of simple brown cord sticking out from behind it. A second later a single silver key was in his hand.

"I keep it here just in case. The guard closes the key cabinet for the night and I need a way to get in sometimes. Shall we?"

"_Yes._"

* * *

The second Kurt shut the door and pressed Blaine against it, they were kissing – deep, passionate kisses right from the beginning, and Blaine felt like a thirsty man on a desert getting a cup of fresh cold water. He moaned into Kurt's mouth and slid his hands under his jacket and up Kurt's back to pull him closer.

"Fuck, why are you so hot?" Kurt sucked on Blaine's lower lip and trailed kisses across his jaw to whisper against the sensitive skin of his neck. "All I could think about out there was that I hadn't kissed you nearly enough before we left."

His lips on Blaine's neck were insistent, feverish, and Blaine gasped Kurt's name, turning his head to the side to give him better access. A heady rush was coursing through him, and had he really ever thought that kissing Nathan felt good? It seemed ridiculous now.

Kurt's hands were tight on Blaine's hips, his thumbs occasionally tracing little circles, until he brushed over the erection straining Blaine's pants, and they both gasped. Kurt moved his hand to stroke on purpose now and Blaine's head thumped against the door as he arched; the sensation of Kurt's fingers smoothing up and down his length was almost too much to bear right now.

"Kurt please... _please_." He couldn't stop the whimper.

"Please what?" Kurt murmured, low and rough, into his ear.

"I want you... so much..." He was panting, and the little part of his brain still capable of rational thinking knew that they didn't have time or conditions to do anything more now, but he felt like he was going to explode.

Kurt pulled away, flushed and dark-eyed, one hand reaching over Blaine's shoulder to lock the door.

"We don't have much time. And you have to be quiet." And then he simply knelt down in front of him, and Blaine had to bite the inside of his cheek not to groan. Surely he was dreaming and was going to wake up any minute now...

Except he didn't.

"May I?" Kurt's voice was husky and the way he licked his lips shot right to Blaine's groin.

"Yes. God _yes_."

Next thing Blaine knew, Kurt was opening his fly with practiced fingers, pulling his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock, and nuzzling his face into the crook of his thigh with a delighted sigh. And then...

And then Kurt's fingers closed around the shaft and his pink tongue traced slowly across the head of Blaine's cock, gathering the precome leaking at the tip, and Blaine didn't manage to hold in a choked cry. He'd never felt anything so perfect before, soft and warm and so much gentler than a hand. But then the velvet heat of Kurt's mouth enveloped him completely and it was the same sensation multiplied by infinity, and Blaine's hips jerked forward of their own accord. He pulled back immediately, apologizing in a breathless whisper, but Kurt just grinned – and god, the picture of his perfect mouth just millimeters from Blaine's cock was something Blaine would never, ever forget.

"No, it's okay. Fuck my mouth if you want to. I can take it. And don't hold back."

With that, Kurt sank back over Blaine's cock, taking in all of its length, and Blaine couldn't help himself even if he tried. His hips moving with gentle encouragement from Kurt's hands, he had no words, no coherent thoughts; it was bliss at its most basic and in the last flash of reason he pushed his fist against his mouth to try and stay quiet. After that, everything faded but the wet, slick softness around his dick and he hadn't even realized how close he was until Kurt sucked on his way up and then danced the hardened tip of his tongue around the sensitive edge of his cockhead, and Blaine was coming, hard and fast, biting on his hand to keep the stream of sounds in. The last sensation before his universe exploded was that of Kurt swallowing tightly around his pulsing cock.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he wasn't lying in his bed after an extremely realistic erotic dream. He was in a dimly lit room full of fabrics and costumes, leaning heavily against Kurt with his head on Kurt's shoulder and his body loose and pliant. He noticed that his pants were back up, his belt buckled, and he drew a long, shuddering breath, still unable to process what had just happened.

Right then, a muffled sound of a bell came from a distance. Blaine raised his head and met Kurt's eyes, sparking and tender.

"We need to go. It's the first call." Kurt pressed his lips softly against his and Blaine couldn't stop himself from flicking his tongue inside just for a second. The taste was new and foreign, and the realization that Kurt's kiss tasted of his come was enough to make him half-hard again despite the post-orgasmic sensitivity.

"What about you?" They had no time for anything more, but he couldn't leave Kurt wanting, could he?

Kurt smiled and unlocked the door. "I can wait. Come on."

There may have been things happening on stage after they returned and the lights went down again, but Blaine was too shell-shocked to pay them any attention. He'd just received his first blowjob. From Kurt. In a Broadway theater, during an intermission of a show premiere. And it felt about a million times better than he'd ever imagined.

He couldn't believe this was his life.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

The second half of the play passed so fast that Blaine was shocked to see the curtain fall and hear the applause. When it was over and everyone started to move towards the exits, Kurt stayed seated and pulled out his cell phone. Blaine felt unease creep up on him. So was this the end of their date? Were they back to normal life and checking mail already? But Kurt only switched the phone back on, tapped one message and pocketed it again, and then his full attention was back on Blaine.

"I let Cooper know that I'm taking you to the after-show party, so you'll get home late."

"Oh! Are you?" It wasn't that Blaine was disappointed, not at all. A party after a Broadway show premiere was really, really exciting. It was just that he sort of hoped for a more private location.

Kurt's grin was positively wicked though. "Technically, yes. I wouldn't lie to Coop, would I? It's not really a party though, just a toast to celebrate the show taking off. No one has the stamina to party after the first show and before three more this weekend. We'll have some champagne and then I have someplace else for us to be."

Blaine found it hard not to bounce in place. This evening had already been fantastic and with the prospect of more to come, his giddiness was getting out of control.

They only spent half an hour backstage, the atmosphere light and bubbly like the champagne that Blaine had never tried before but discovered he loved. It tickled his upper lip in a way that made him want to ask Kurt to suck on it, and he almost did before he recognized it as a sure sign that he was getting tipsy and careless. He left his second glass unfinished after that and focused on listening to the conversations around until Kurt looked at his watch and motioned to him.

"Time for us to go. Okay, ladies and gentlemen, break your legs tomorrow, and I'm on call in case of any costume crisis." Kurt blew them a collective kiss and then left the backstage and the theater with Blaine. The familiar cab was already waiting for them in front of the building. Blaine glanced at his watch: ten thirty on the dot.

Kurt's phone vibrated with incoming text before they reached the cab. He read it and showed the screen to Blaine with a grin.

_**Cooperson**_: _okay but don't let him get drunk and fall for some actor, he's such a lightweight_

Blaine chuckled self-consciously, blush heating up his cheeks.

"Yeah, he gave me a beer two days ago and then made fun of me when I wanted him to sing with me all evening. I think it's safe to say you did good, though. I'm mostly sober and I'm not interested in any actors."

Kurt shook his head and bit his lower lip, making Blaine ache to kiss it.

"I should feel so bad about him not knowing, but I just... don't. It'll probably hit me at some point, but for now, I'm just going to enjoy the rest of our first date. Hop in." He opened the door for Blaine again.

Steve greeted them with a wide smile, nodded at the address Kurt gave him and off they went. Blaine, silly and carefree from the champagne and pure joy filling him, took Kurt's hand and turned to him with a hopeful smile.

"Kiss me?" He felt giddy and bold, even more so when Kurt didn't hesitate, but unfastened his seatbelt and moved to straddle his thighs immediately, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss.

"Hi," he whispered against Blaine's mouth before tilting his head and kissing him deeper, and Blaine did something he'd really wanted to try but hadn't had a chance yet. One hand sliding up Kurt's spine, he tangled the other in the thick, soft hair at the back of his head and tugged lightly. Kurt took the hint and let his head fall back, exposing the alabaster skin of his neck and throat, and Blaine couldn't resist it for one second.

With just the tip of his tongue, he licked a stripe up the side of Kurt's neck, and then kissed back down, slow and tender. He pressed a kiss to the hollow under Kurt's ear, sucked lightly on the underside of his jaw, tasting the barest hint of stubble, grazed his teeth as low as the collar of his shirt allowed. Kurt was delicious, his skin soft and delicate, his smell irresistible, a complex mixture that Blaine already learned to recognize and associate with him. He was also letting out the most adorable, needy sounds and Blaine wanted to stay like this for the rest of the evening and explore all of Kurt's sensitive spots.

It didn't happen, though. There was a sound of a throat being cleared, none too subtly.

"Kurt, dude, remember the rules?"

Kurt sighed and pulled away, and Blaine bristled instinctively. Were they about to hear something about being _gay_ in the cab? But Kurt just recited in monotone. "Seatbelts on until we park."

"See, not too hard is it? You can get your mack on when we're there."

Kurt shrugged apologetically, smiled, and kissed Blaine on the lips one last time before climbing off, fastening his seatbelt and making sure his pants still looked good after kneeling on the seat. They did, of course. Then he took Blaine's hand and held it for the rest of the ride.

It felt perfect.

They stopped on a small, dimly-lit side street and Kurt hurried to open Blaine's door, taking his hand again as soon as they were both standing. Steve called out through the open window.

"That's it for tonight?"

"Yes, we'll walk back home. Thank you, Steve."

"My pleasure, boys. Night!" The cab took off with a squeal of tires and Kurt focused back on Blaine.

"Okay, this restaurant is neither big nor particularly posh, but that's its forte. Not many people know about it, it's my little secret that I have no intention to share with the guys, and their food is to die for. We don't have to hide while in here, okay?" As if to prove his point, Kurt pulled Blaine into his arms and just looked at him, so close, his eyes warm and smiling. "I wanted to be able to do this all evening."

With just a feather-light touch of his thumb, he traced the contours of Blaine's lips before kissing him, slow and deep, right there on the street of New York City.

* * *

Blaine didn't have any more alcohol that evening, yet he felt drunk when he stole the last quick kiss in the shadows of the staircase in Cooper's building and finally said goodnight to Kurt. He thought he'd known what a good date was, but after tonight, he knew just how mistaken he'd been.

The dinner had been amazing.

After a short, quiet conversation with a waitress who clearly knew and liked Kurt, they were seated outside in the small, hidden back garden, the air warm and fragrant around them. They were alone there, in an intimate little dome of soft candlelight. They held hands and spoke in soft, quiet voices, and Blaine wasn't even sure what he was eating because he could only focus on Kurt – his touch, his smile, the sparkle in his eyes; all for Blaine, no one else. There was quiet piano music in the background and even the ever-present city heartbeat of traffic sounded far away and muted.

After they'd eaten, Kurt led him to a swing on the patio, and the waitress brought them a platter of fresh fruit. He knew the taste of raspberries, apricots and grapes would never be quite the same after Kurt fed him with his fingers, each bite followed by kisses and caresses as they sat so very close, with Blaine's head cradled on Kurt's shoulder.

They walked home after midnight, a slow stroll through the tranquility of warm summer night. They held hands for as long as they could, until Kurt kissed Blaine's wrist and hesitantly let go because they were close to their homes now and there were more people on the streets there.

Cooper was still up when Blaine entered the apartment.

"Whoa, if I didn't know what theater stuff does to you, I'd think you're in love, you look so dreamy. How was the party?"

Blaine found it extremely difficult to switch gears and pretend, even for a moment, that he hadn't just had the most magical evening ever, and not because of the _theater stuff_. He knew he had to try, though.

"It was just... _wow_."

Cooper laughed. "Aww, you're so start-struck that you're actually incoherent. Go to bed, you'll tell me about it tomorrow. Goodnight!"

"Night, Coop."

Yes. Tomorrow. Maybe by tomorrow he'd be able to open his mouth without spilling everything about the most amazing date, ever, right at his brother who could _not_ know how close Blaine had gotten to Kurt.

* * *

Kurt managed to get home and close the door behind him before he panicked. He flopped ungracefully on the sofa, not bothering to switch on the light, and let the cold waves of anxiety wash over him.

_What the fuck was he doing?_

Sex was one thing, though getting it on with Coop's brother may have been a very bad idea. However, that had been a conscious decision. But this? The rest of tonight? It was supposed to be a date, yes, but the way it turned out... and Kurt couldn't even say that it was acting, playing it so that they'd both have a good time. No, he'd never have played it up to such an extreme. And he hadn't even tried, here!

His initial idea had been to just take Blaine out for dinner to a popular Thai restaurant he knew and liked. They couldn't have acted like a couple there, but it was luxurious and exotic, and enough to impress any date.

Instead... oh god, instead Kurt let himself be swept off his feet by Blaine's dashing appearance, by his sparkling eyes and his sinfully beautiful lips, oh so delicious back in Coop's kitchen. _Coop's kitchen_, for heaven's sake! And then Blaine's smell still lingered around him when they were in the cab and Kurt just had to try and find more on his wrist, where his skin was so thin and warm, and his pulse beat so strong and excited. And then–

Blaine was like a drug. His touch, his body, his taste, the way he unraveled so beautifully right before Kurt's eyes, under his hands and mouth, over his tongue, and _fuck_, Kurt was lost to it.

There could have been no generic, meaningless restaurant after that. He had to take Blaine to _that_ one, to his special place where he went when he wanted to be alone, secretly hoping that one day there would be someone in his life to share it with. He'd never taken _anyone_ there. And now...

And now he had no idea what to do. He hadn't acted like this in years, but it felt so natural, so right. Blaine didn't deserve any less; only the best Kurt had in him. But it could only mean one thing, this pressing need to give, to care; Kurt knew the feeling, he'd been through this, several times in the last ten years, in fact. And it never ended well, even when there hadn't been complications in the form of age difference, protective older brothers or, soon, distance. Here, it could only end catastrophically bad. He had to control himself, damn it. He had to be the mature, reasonable one.

But he knew it was easier said than done. Kurt Hummel has always had trouble resisting the call of his heart.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's notes: **_This chapter (as well as a few later on) should contain links to music. Playing the songs where indicated and listening while reading on is not obligatory, of course, but it can really improve the experience, I think :) Sadly, FF doesn't support outside links, even sneakily disguised, so I'm just giving you the names of the songs to play; they are all easily available on YouTube, and you already know the two in this chapter. It's less convenient and not quite so fun as surprise links, I know, but I can't really help it. Sorry! _

_I hope you enjoy the chapter. Thank you for all your love for this story!_

* * *

**CHAPTER 10**

"Bee? Get up sleepyhead, breakfast is ready."

The sharp knocking on the bedroom door would be enough to give a dead man a heart attack, so it was fortunate that Blaine was long awake. He'd been lying in bed, dreamy-eyed and grinning with different levels of intensity, for hours. Even with the buffer of the night behind him, he didn't trust himself, so he was waiting for the familiar soft click of the apartment door closing behind Coop. But now it seemed that his brother decided to deviate from his usual Saturday routine of going to work "just for a couple of hours" in the morning.

Oh well, Blaine would have to mind his mouth and pretend not to be crazily, ridiculously in love, that's all. He could do this, he wasn't in his school's theater club just for credits, after all. And he didn't want to get Kurt – well, both of them – in trouble, so that was the best motivation of all.

"Give me five minutes," he called out. He needed a moment to get in character, at least.

"Oh come on, it's just me, you don't have to get all presentable. We're having an Anderson Brothers Lazy Weekend Extravaganza here. PJs and male bonding on the menu. Come out."

"Okay, okay. I'll be right there."

Cooper sounded way too enthusiastic for it to bode well, but Blaine knew better than to argue. True, all he wanted was to see Kurt as soon as humanly possible without waking him up and earning the Glare of Doom, but he couldn't just dismiss Coop's plans. Especially when he'd normally jump at the chance to spend more time with his brother without his job getting in the way for once.

He knew that by PJs Cooper meant "just enough to cover the naughty bits", but he pulled on his old Batman pants and a t-shirt anyway. Somehow the thought of being half-naked with his brother in the room felt less natural now than it had ten years ago.

There was proper breakfast on the table when Blaine got to the kitchen, complete with eggs, bacon, a heap of toast and a pot of fresh coffee. Cooper grinned, already seated in his usual spot.

"So tell me about last night. How was the play, and the party? You looked pretty happy when you came home."

Oh, okay. The play was a safe territory where Blaine could meander for _hours_. The party? Not so much. His enthusiasm unleashed, he started talking between bites of food.

"It was _spectacular_! The play was breathtaking; the music, the actors, the costumes – I've seen rehearsals, but it really feels different when seen properly, as a finished product, you know?" Sure, he'd been distracted for most of it – but the atmosphere was definitely _magical_.

"You saw rehearsals?"

"Yeah, I told you, remember? Kurt got me a pass so I could go to the theater and observe whenever I wanted."

Cooper nodded. "Oh, right, you might have mentioned something. I'm glad you two clicked together so well." Blaine almost choked on his coffee before Coop finished. "I'd be worried with you being alone all the time if he didn't agree to keep an eye on you. Kurt's a good guy."

"He really is." _God, if Cooper only knew... _It was nearly impossible to keep his face neutral, but Blaine couldn't resist asking from behind his coffee cup. "I don't get why he's single. I mean, as much as I can tell, he should be quite a catch, right? Handsome, nice, talented –" He actually bit his tongue not to let the avalanche of other adjectives out.

Coop's smile disappeared as he shook his head. "He _is_ a catch, he just doesn't want to be caught. Kurt is... you could say he's been burned, time and time again. Used, cheated on, dumped. After James broke up their engagement... I'd never seen Kurt so broken before, Bee. He seemed like he'd shatter with the slightest touch. And then his dad's surgery on top of that. He was gone for a month, staying with his family, and when he came back, he was... different. More guarded, less emotional. I guess it will take a hell of a guy to break through his walls and get his trust now."

Suddenly choked up, Blaine searched blindly for something to say without letting out too much. _Distraction. Right_.

"How about you? You're not half bad either and yet I haven't seen you with a girl since I came here. Or is that what all the extra time at work really is?"

Cooper laughed but it sounded off somehow. He took his time finishing up his eggs before he answered.

"Nah, it's just work. I'm not sure I'm a long-time relationship kind of guy."

Blaine frowned.

"Really? But it must be lonely, all by yourself. You can't just work all the time, it's not healthy, you know?"

Coop snorted mirthlessly and stood up to put dishes in the sink.

"Shut up and come watch _Die Hard _with me before I'm forced to use the _you're too young to understand it_ argument."

* * *

They were on the fourth movie and Blaine definitely felt lazy now, full of pizza and popcorn and coke, and resigned to not seeing Kurt until Monday, when Cooper's phone chirped. Used to his brother's long business conversations at all hours, Blaine took the opportunity for a bathroom-and-text break (_I wish I could drop by to thank you for last night, but Cooper is keeping me chained to John McClane. Help?_). By the time he got a response (_Rescue mission initiated. Brace for impact._) and came back into the room, Cooper had finished talking and was waiting with a remote in his hand.

"We're going out for karaoke with the guys later," he announced and pressed play.

"Wait, what?" Blaine took the remote from him and stopped the movie again.

"Karaoke bar. Tonight. Sebastian called, he wants to go sing and drink, and Kurt's in, so we're joining them. Obviously, you won't drink. Much. Unless you don't want to go?"

"And miss seeing you three on stage? No way."

"Cool. Now come on, unpause. This is the best scene."

* * *

The bar – one that Cooper and his friends frequented regularly, apparently – was dimly lit and crowded on Saturday night, but Blaine saw Kurt immediately, as if he was illuminated by an invisible spotlight. His heart skipped in a way that told him he'd have to be very careful with his glances and words tonight, when all he wanted was to take Kurt's hand and kiss him, no matter who would see it and what they may have to say about it.

Kurt didn't seem to have any problems with pretending that they weren't... dating? Boyfriends? Lovers? He greeted both him and Cooper like dear friends; there was no telltale blush on his cheeks, not the tiniest change in his eyes when he looked at Blaine. Just his usual beautiful smile – a smile that morphed into tender and knowing, and laden with emotions the second Cooper and Sebastian turned away for a moment.

It only lasted a heartbeat, that private smile brightening Kurt's face, but it was enough for Blaine to know: he wasn't the only one who enjoyed last night and itched to be closer. Just that one smile sufficed to calm down Blaine's restlessness and charm his hummingbird of a heart into serene contentment. Kurt was here. He was close, he was smiling, and – to whatever tiny degree – he was Blaine's. That was enough for tonight. They would talk and sing, and listen to other people perform, and have a good time. And soon, there would be time and space for them again, a little pocket of existence where they could be honest and open together. He could wait.

The bar seemed to be really popular ("The widest selection of songs in town," Kurt explained. "All kinds, that's why we come here.") and soon the karaoke was going full force, with people coming and going, voices and songs and vocal skills varying widely. The four of them were drinking and chatting, not yet ready to join the fun – Coop even bought a beer for Blaine ("Just one and if you tell our parents I let you drink I'll deny everything").

Soon Sebastian rubbed his hands together, though, and smirked. "Let's start this show."

The moment he stood and moved towards the stage, tall and skinny and kind of intimidating even out of his designer suit, Kurt leaned over to Blaine. "We're sort of known here, the three of us. Most of these people are regulars and... you'll see."

Blaine turned to the stage with increased interest.

He recognized the song instantly and watched with amazement as the man he learned to associate with slightly contemptuous grins, snark and brutal honesty did a brilliant rendition of Michael Jackson's _Bad_, complete with every exhale of a sound, his hips snapping and circling, his voice strong and clear. _Wow_. Clearly Coop only befriended talented people.

Speaking of which, his brother was next to claim the mic. Blaine had listened to him and sung with him countless times when he was a child, but now it felt different, with the perspective that time and distance had given him. He could really appreciate now, through older ears – a musician's ears – how effortlessly good Cooper was while rocking Aerosmith's old classic,_ Cryin'_, of all things. How easily he pulled the audience in, people swaying and singing with him, all eyes trained on him.

Suddenly, as if a forgotten drawer snapped open, Blaine remembered how back in high school, before he moved out and went to college, Coop had dreamed of being an actor, a singer, a famous star. How he'd rehearsed his dance moves in front of the big mirror in their parents' huge closet when he'd thought no one saw him. Blaine wondered now just how big those dreams had been; how much it had taken to bury them and go into finance instead, using the analytical talents their father always praised Cooper for. How many of his brother's obvious _daddy issues_ dated back to that period of loud conversations Blaine had understood little of? Back then, he'd been bored with all the arguments, and just wanted his big brother to play with him.

He'd have to ask him. Not tonight, though.

Now, Cooper was back, sweaty and exhilarated, promising Blaine they'd perform a killer brother duet later, even as he dropped on his chair and downed the rest of his drink. And sure, Blaine would indulge him, why not. He'd never really had stage fright and the one person whose opinion he cared about in this room had already heard him sing anyway, while he played the piano in his living room.

For now, though, they left the stage for other people, chatting about Coop's promotion and Kurt's musical, and it felt good. _Blaine_ felt good – relaxed and accepted here, where he wasn't labeled or compared to other people's standards. Where he could be shamelessly, unapologetically himself.

The beer, even though sipped slowly, was affecting him already; creating a gentle, pleasant buzz and making the world a happy, amusing place. The other three were getting looser too, louder and giggly, and then Kurt was up with a mischievous grin, Cooper and Sebastian cheering him on.

"Have you heard our gay diva yet?" Sebastian's voice was close to Blaine's ear all of a sudden, startling him out of his reverie as he watched Kurt's ass in his tight, tight jeans. Blaine shook his head and the man chuckled. "Oh, this is going to be grand. Hold onto your pants, baby Anderson."

[ **This is the moment to find and play _I Have Nothing_, the Glee version, as sang by Chris Colfer** ]

The music started and Blaine was sure there had to be a mistake because there was no way _anyone_ would attempt this song at a karaoke bar – not just like that, without warming up, not in the original key and _surely_ not a man. He looked around – half the crowd seemed to share his doubts, the other half waited expectantly, excitedly even.

And then Kurt sang.

_[share my life, take me for what I am]_

Every note pure and perfect, shooting right to Blaine's heart, his soul, until there was nothing else there, no bar, no people, no _world_, just Kurt, Kurt, _Kurt_...

_[I don't really need to look very much further  
I don't want to have to go where you don't follow]_

Kurt's eyes were closed, his hands moving gently with the music as he focused on the song and the song alone, and Blaine wished – prayed – to one day deserve these words to be directed to him, to earn them, to be the one to show Kurt how loved he could be, how cherished and wanted and adored.

_[don't make me close one more door  
I don't wanna hurt anymore  
stay in my arms if you dare  
or must I imagine you there]_

The song wasn't for him, he knew. But right then, he promised to himself that he'd do everything in his power to be the man it could be for, one day.

* * *

Kurt got off the stage dazed and breathless, the standing ovation and the lights too much after the moment in dark seclusion of the song where only emotions reigned. A moment that always felt like eternity until it ended. He made his way to their table amidst praises and awed looks from strangers. His heart was pounding, excited, thrilled, and _fuck_, what had he been thinking to chose _I Have Nothing_, the lyrics resonating through him so strong that they were setting his feelings aflutter?

He _hadn't_ been thinking, that was the problem – he'd chosen on instinct, a song he felt like singing tonight. Which was fine, his instinctive decisions were usually the best ones, but now, here, he couldn't trust himself and his instincts. He had to be rational, reasonable.

Blaine's wide eyes and half-open mouth, and Seb's amused expression as he watched the boy only confirmed what Kurt already knew. He had to control himself better – had to step back from the edge before he threw himself off it blindly, in the spur of a moment. He knew how easily he could do this, how much he would enjoy it.

Until he crashed full force onto the jagged rocks on the bottom.

No. He had too many scars and patches already; he'd shattered one time too many. He couldn't afford another try. Especially when there was no chance for a happy ending.

He didn't drink anymore that night – he kept ordering for the others, but stuck to Coke himself. It didn't keep him from having fun once he shook off the temporary dread.

He immensely enjoyed the Anderson brothers' performance of _Rio_. He managed to chuckle at Sebastian's half-drunk teasing when Blaine sang, ridiculously tipsy and looking right at Kurt with hooded eyes, _When I Get You Alone_. The desperately hard press of the heel of his hand against his fly under the table went unnoticed, and he thanked all the gods for the fact that Cooper took his sweet time in the bathroom right then.

By the time his two very drunk friends forced him back on the stage with them to perform _Friday_, the song Kurt hated with all his might, he'd had enough and wanted to go home. But Sebastian insisted on one last round and Blaine, flushed and adorably silly even though he'd finished his single beer ages ago, got a crazy idea, and Kurt simply couldn't say _no _to him.

[ **Click-click: play _Animal_ now, the Warblers version** ]

He just hoped his friends were already too far gone to remember.

_[Here we go again, I kinda wanna be more than friends]_

Blaine's opening line curled around Kurt's heart and pulled him into the song, the headspace he could never resist even after he'd decided to pursue fashion instead of musical theater. The stage still felt like home, right and addictive, and sharing it with Blaine was just as good as he thought, hoped –feared – it would be. Their voices were perfect together, as if the song was written for them and Kurt felt himself slipping, drawing closer and closer to the tempting cliff of sweet, deadly surrender.

No, he definitely wouldn't sleep tonight.

* * *

Sunday dragged like molasses, like tar that hadn't been heated enough or a sticky toffee. By noon Blaine stopped looking for new similes and resigned himself to the fact that there was no escaping Cooper's company today. They were... bonding. Again. Grocery shopping, going to the movies, and making dinner together. Scratch that, _attempting_ to make dinner together – in the end Blaine grilled the chicken and vegetables himself and sent Coop to nurse his burned hand on the sofa. It turned out his brother was a klutz when hung-over, and grumpy. Figures.

In the last few days they finally got to the point where they stopped walking around on eggshells and started _talking_ again – or maybe for the first time, really, since the last time they were so comfortable and open around each other Blaine was still a kid. It really felt nice, having an older brother again. Still, a big part of Blaine's thoughts were somewhere else entirely the whole day. In another apartment, just a block away, to be exact.

Then Monday finally came and Blaine had to force himself not to go to Kurt's the minute the door closed behind Cooper in the early morning. He cleaned his room instead, wrote emails to a few of his Dalton friends, did laundry. When he looked at the clock again, it was barely eight. Kurt wouldn't be awake for hours. He went to the gym, came back, showered and changed. Drank coffee. Eleven.

Unable to wait any longer, Blaine went anyway. He bought a bunch of wildly colorful flowers from an old lady on a street corner; then a box of raspberries at a small produce stall. They were ripe and fresh, their color making him think of Kurt's lips when thoroughly kissed.

He slipped into Kurt's apartment quietly, barely breathing, though his heart already hammered a happy staccato beat just from being here at last.

"Blaine, is that you?"

Kurt's voice came muffled through the closed bedroom door just as Blaine toed off his shoes. "It's me. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No. Come in here."

Elbowing the door open was a bit of a challenge, his hands still full of flowers and fruit, but he managed and suddenly he was standing in the doorway looking at Kurt stretched on the bed, barely covered by a thin sheet that didn't hide _anything_, and it was a miracle Blaine didn't just drop everything he carried. He forced his mouth shut and his brain to work again, and shrugged, gesturing to his colorful cargo.

"Hi, I just... I'll take these to the kitchen."

"Mm, no, put them on the bedside table and come join me. I missed you."

And really, who was he to refuse when the adorably sleepy, unbearably sexy, almost certainly naked Kurt Hummel invited him to bed?

Blaine had missed him too.

* * *

Kurt expected... No, actually, he didn't expect anything; with the practiced openness of someone who'd had it good and bad and simply boring, and sometimes – rarely – spectacular; who'd learned that you never really know how good of a lover anyone was until you tried, he had no expectations. Still, he wanted, yearned, and he knew that Blaine had to feel similar desire. So he was pretty sure there was an orgasm in his immediate future, one way or another.

But the slow kisses that started at his lips and moved towards his temples and jaw, neck, throat, only became deeper and bolder, not progressing towards hands or grinding or anything other than more touches. Kisses and caresses so tender they stirred something long forgotten in him. It couldn't have even been called exploration, a short scouting mission of sorts that some guys attempted to serve as foreplay. No, this was just – Kurt couldn't even name it. It was as if Blaine wanted to say hello to every millimeter of his skin, be it with the touch of his warm hands or his soft lips, a slide of his tongue, a gentle graze of teeth – everywhere. Literally everywhere, and Kurt just lay back, surrendered to it, helpless because here he was – experienced and so certain there was nothing left that could surprise him, sexually – coming undone in the most innocent, beautiful of ways, at the hands of a 17-year-old boy.

It wasn't the steady slide towards getting off, slow or hurried, but sure. It was... a serene warm sea of pleasure, lapping at him with gentle waves kissing his skin, and soon he stopped wondering and analyzing, and just let go, fell into Blaine's care, content to not hold back. It was as if his body was a new instrument that Blaine wanted to get to know – every plane and angle, every nook and cranny, tender and curious, fascinated by the sounds he managed to provoke.

There were spots on Kurt's body he was pretty sure no one else had ever bothered to pay attention to, and the warm waves echoed through him, evoking sounds and reactions beyond his control. He never knew the hollow by his ankle was a sensitive spot that sent him into arching pleasure with one sweep of a searching tongue. No one ever cared to explore his ribs and sides with such careful focus, discovering a whole spectrum of sensations, from _ohmygodyes_ to uncontrollable giggles.

Every inch of his back, one giant erogenous zone that could bring him to his knees when used properly, but was always ignored after a short while, was now played on perfectly, languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. Blunt, calloused fingers raking down the sensitive skin with just a hint of nails; soft kisses down the valley of his spine; warm tongue lapping unexpectedly here and there, and before long Kurt was panting, moaning, whimpering, unable to stop. He was _this_ close to begging when Blaine's hands slid down to his ass, stroking and kneading lightly. And when his lips followed, wet and hot, nipping and sucking on the muscle, nowhere near where he really _needed_ it now, Kurt broke.

"Blaine please, _please –_"

"Turn over."

Blaine's voice was low and hoarse, his breathing labored, and Kurt groaned when he twisted to lay on his back and saw his face – eyes dark with want, lips ruby red. God, he couldn't remember the last time he wanted anyone so much; he was on the edge already, _this_ close, aching and leaking, precome smeared generously around his navel.

"What do you want me to do?" Blaine was still fully dressed, his hand cupping the straining denim of his fly for a fleeting moment, and this was ridiculous, and ridiculously hot, and Kurt didn't know why he felt _so much_ but he would surely die if he didn't get off soon.

"Anything, everything. Whatever you want. Just, _please_. I need you."

Blaine took his sweet time getting up from the bed and stripping off his clothes, his eyes never leaving Kurt's face, pink tongue peeking out once, twice, to wet those lips that looked raw from kissing. And then he was naked and gorgeous, and Kurt whined, his hips stuttering, seeking friction where there was none.

"Come here." Blaine was dropping to his knees by the bed and Kurt understood instantly, moving to sit on the edge, then laying back down when his arms refused to support him. That mouth, god, these lips on him, there was nothing he wanted more now. He nearly cried when Blaine kissed his thigh instead, his hip, teasing. Until he wasn't.

Blaine's mouth was just... everything. Shy and bold; inexperienced and enthusiastic. Gentle and passionate, quick to try and learn. Stretched wide around Kurt's considerable girth, vibrating with the steady stream of humming and moans as Blaine sunk over him slowly, deliberately, over and over again, and Kurt's eyes rolled back, his last coherent thoughts scrambling and sizzling to nothing. His fingers tangled in Blaine's hair, he barely remembered to tug weakly and then he was arching and singing his release in some crazy scale, broken roughly on a high note.

When he opened his eyes and blinked dazedly, it took him a moment just to catalogue his surroundings. Blaine's head was leaning heavily against his knee and Kurt sat up wobbly, to check on him and because he really, _really_ needed to see his face now. Blaine's smile was dazzling, come smeared around his lips and chin, and Kurt pulled him up on the bed and into a sticky, salty kiss while his hand sneaked down to try and take care of him in turn.

Except there was nothing to take care of anymore, his fingers sliding through warm mess. Blaine chuckled self-consciously.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't... I didn't even... You're just really hot when you come, okay?"

And really, the only thing Kurt could do was pull this adorable, amazing boy into another deep kiss.

But then Blaine stretched away a little and the next instant there was a ripe, juicy raspberry in Kurt's mouth and god, this was the best Monday morning imaginable. Naked in bed with a beautiful man, after sex that left him satiated in more ways than one; kissing and feeding each other raspberries, and cuddling a little, until they decided to get up. Delicious hot coffee followed, and then pancakes made and eaten together among talking and laughter. Piano notes and soft songs and more kisses, and it was just...

It was _perfect_.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

"How about a shopping spree tomorrow?"

They were standing by the door in Kurt's apartment, trying – and failing – to say goodbye on a Wednesday evening, after another afternoon spent together. Blaine really needed to go home; Cooper would be back soon, with dinner, and it would be suspicious if Blaine wasn't there after he said he was on his way. But it was so difficult to leave when he could just stand here instead, making out with Kurt.

The past three days had been like a dream. With no new costumes for the theater needed for now, Kurt had an easier time at work, so he did some maintenance in the costumes archive and worked on his private designs at home. If someone had told Blaine that he would spend his summer afternoons with a man he was crazy about, either in his New York apartment or in a Broadway theater helping him catalogue a whole wardrobe of old costumes, he'd never had believed it. And yet, that was exactly what he was doing, and he couldn't be happier.

Of course, he would be happy sweeping the streets if he got to do it with Kurt.

"Shopping for what?"

Kurt grinned and stole another kiss before answering. "Clothes, shoes, accessories... I like the way you dress, but I'm itching to add some well-chosen pieces to your wardrobe. I've seen some pants you would look devastatingly good in and a few designer shirts I'd like you to try and –"

Blaine was really sorry he had to wipe this bright-eyed enthusiasm off Kurt's face.

"Oh... I'd love to, Kurt, but I don't have any money of my own right now. Coop is paying for my food and everything else here. I can't make him buy me clothes, too."

Kurt snorted, clearly amused for some reason.

"Um, Blaine? Have you ever wondered how much your brother makes? I'll give you a hint: he's a young prodigy in a large financial corporation, who has been promoted three times in the last two years alone and never says no to overtime. Plus, he's supposed to be an investment genius. Just ask him if you can go shopping with me, and text me to set the time. Now go."

With a swift kiss, Kurt opened the door and gently pushed Blaine out towards the elevator.

* * *

Hesitantly, Blaine approached the topic over dinner. Cooper's question about his day worked just fine as an introduction.

"I was helping Kurt at the theater, he's been cataloguing old costumes. Actually, he wants me to go shopping with him tomorrow."

Coop took another forkful of pasta. "Mm. Clothes?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck. Remember to wear comfortable shoes, shopping with Kurt is like an Olympic sport."

Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling a bit like a leech. "I don't think I'll go, though. It's not like I have any money to spare."

Cooper shrugged, not even looking up at him. "Oh come on, sure you can go, you have my card, right? How much do you need? Five hundred?" He glanced up when the silence continued, and clearly read Blaine's stunned expression wrong because he shook his head. "No, you're right. I _do_ owe you a few birthday presents after all. Try to stay within a thousand though, all right? Kurt tends to stick to designer labels, so he needs someone to keep him from going overboard."

It took Blaine a while to find his jaw under the table.

* * *

Shopping with Kurt turned out to be exhausting, but also fun and satisfying in a way Blaine had never suspected shopping could be. He'd never had anyone to buy clothes with him before, and certainly not someone who would wait patiently as Blaine tried on one thing after another, comment expertly on the fit and colors, and offer honest opinions and advice. Eventually, he didn't even come close to the limit Cooper had given him, and still came home with his arms laden with bags and boxes. Not to mention a bit overwhelmed after spending more on clothes than he ever had before within months, let alone one afternoon.

There were some shirts and cardigans there, two pairs of pants that hugged his ass and legs in a nearly indecent way yet still managed to be comfortable, and a few bowties that he couldn't resist. There was also a new cologne, one that he'd wanted to try for some time and ended up loving. Kurt had taken one whiff of his sprayed wrist and nearly groaned, his eyes getting darker in a way Blaine already knew oh-so-well, and it was the final push to buy the perfume, in spite of its top-shelf price. Oh well, it was a gift from Coop, after all.

Later that night, on the verge of sleep, one thought fluttered around him, making him smile into the soft darkness. They virtually hadn't touched today. Not a kiss, a hug, no hand-holding – they were in public, in places where privacy or secrecy couldn't have been guaranteed – and yet, it didn't matter. With Kurt's smile and attention, with their easy conversation and instant understanding, it still felt like a most amazing date. And this was new.

Sure, he may not have had much experience in dating, but he knew enough to realize that it wasn't a given. He remembered the dates with Nathan, some dinners and walks, a couple of movies, a little driving around, and how it had always felt almost like a front, while beneath the thin surface both of them really only thought of ways and places to get some intimacy, a few minutes to themselves to make out safely, maybe go further, as far as circumstances allowed.

And sure, there was the fact that with Kurt Blaine didn't have to constantly dream about getting physical because they could, and they did; his needs were met in a way they never had before, which made obsessing unnecessary. But he was pretty sure it was more than that. While he wanted Kurt constantly, his nerves firing up in his presence, humming and buzzing whenever they were close, it didn't matter enough to block everything else – their conversations and laughter, the understanding and interests they shared. They weren't just lovers or whatever they were – they were friends. It was still new, fresh, nothing like Cooper and Sebastian were to Kurt, certainly, but it was there, and it made their entire relationship that much better, more complex.

* * *

On Friday Kurt decided that while he wasn't a fan of keeping animals in cages, Blaine simply had to go see the zoo and the aquarium.

Except it took them longer than they'd planned at the Bronx Zoo because Blaine couldn't get away from the Children's Zoo section, feeding and petting the goats and llamas, and talking to them until Kurt was a useless giggling mess crouching on the ground with a stitch in his side. And then there was the butterfly garden and it was just so _beautiful_ and interesting, that by the time they left the zoo it was past six and there was no use going to the aquarium today. They settled on dinner at Kurt's place.

The clouds that had threatened overhead for half the afternoon finally burst just as they were getting out from the subway station. The downpour was sudden and surprisingly cold for a summer rain, and left them drenched within seconds. It should be annoying, but they ended up laughing instead as they sprinted to get to the dry, safe haven of Kurt's apartment. It was that infectious kind of laughter that fed on each other's hilarity until they were gasping and clutching at their bellies, their muscles aching from the run and the effort of hysterical giggling. They were home by then, dripping on the floor of Kurt's small hallway, their clothes and hair soaked through, faint ripples of laughter still vibrating through them on every other breath.

And Blaine wasn't sure how it happened, but the next instant they were kissing, wet and cold but sparkling heat from the inside. It was as intense as the laughter had been, the same energy flowing between them. And then Kurt gasped against his lips between kisses, "Shower. We'll catch a cold", and his hands were tugging at Blaine's shirt, impatient. A race to rid each other of their clothes followed, and Blaine had never gone from wet, cold and giggly to hard, hot and wanting that fast. He might have become a little dizzy from all the blood leaving his head in a hurry.

Kurt's shower wasn't really built for two, but the hot water and the proximity in the small stall was all Blaine could dream of now. It felt so intimate, just showering together, that his breath caught for reasons that were not really sexual for a change. Neither of them could move freely, so for a moment the kissing was forgotten as they washed each other, a little shy with the novelty of it, but unable to contain their grins as their bodies regained the warmth the rain had stolen from them.

But then the slick, soapy hands were touching places and stuttering hips caused some quite accidental contact that quickly progressed into non-accidental in the least, and all of the sudden there was hot, lathery naked frottage in that tiny shower stall and god, Blaine wanted it to last forever. Kurt pressing against him hot and wet, his hips rocking and undulating in ways that made Blaine's eyes roll back, their cocks aligned perfectly, slick with the soap and water.

And then Kurt's hand on Blaine's ass pressed him closer still, his fingers sliding in a single slick caress along his crack and over his hole and Blaine was coming, unexpected and shocking, his rough cry echoing against the bathroom walls.

The movement of Kurt's hand just inches from him registered first, before any other sensations came back. It took his brain a few seconds to connect the familiar rhythmic slides and the hushed moans that were just getting to the point of desperate, but once he did, Blaine was dropping to his knees under the still hot water spray and turning his face upwards towards Kurt – his flushed cheeks, half open mouth, his hand moving ever faster as he was jerking himself off. Blaine's voice was still rough and breathless from his orgasm, but sure and pleading.

"Come on, I want you to, want... Please..." It was so hard to voice the boldness of what he wanted, but it didn't matter, Kurt understood. His eyes went wide and he keened, shooting stripes of white all over Blaine's face, his open mouth, his cheeks and forehead, and fuck, if it wasn't the hottest thing ever.

* * *

Kurt was already halfway through his first cup of latte when Blaine entered the coffee shop the next morning. He looked tense and anxious, and Kurt flinched – okay, maybe he should have thought twice about what he was going to say before he'd called Blaine barely after nine. You don't usually expect anything good when someone tells you to meet them as soon as possible because you two should _talk_.

But he'd been unable to sleep and not caffeinated yet, and he'd really wanted to talk _right then_ and –

Okay, he'd fix it now.

Except Blaine stopped at the counter, taking a lot of time deciding on his order before he finally got to the table and sat down. He looked paler than usual, his eyes lacking the usual sparkle, but his voice was resolute as he spoke.

"You're going to call it off, aren't you? Us?"

Kurt shook his head fervently. He would have grabbed Blaine's hand if they were somewhere further away from their neighborhood, but as it was, he had to settle on an open, reassuring look.

"No, of course not! I'm sorry I didn't make it clear on the phone. I just want to talk."

Blaine seemed to breathe easier, but uncertainty on his face lingered.

"Right, about us. But... why the hurry, and the public place then?"

Kurt hesitated for a second. This was going to sound _so_ weird. But he had his reasons.

"Um, it's... a sex talk, okay?"

He saw Blaine's eyes go wide as the boy took in their surroundings. It was ten; the coffee shop was quite busy, but with the table he chose in a far corner, it was quite a secluded place. Still, they were in public; it wasn't quite the kind of place most people would choose for talking about such intimate things. Kurt smiled self-consciously.

"I know, we're in a coffee shop. But I want us to _talk_, not to end up in bed five minutes into the conversation, which would undoubtedly happen in more private circumstances."

Blaine relaxed at last, tension seeping out of his posture and a shadow of a smile appearing on his face.

"Okay. What kind of sex talk? Because I already know about bees and birds and stuff..."

"Mm, I'm sure you do." Kurt couldn't help but smile. "But I want to talk about boundaries."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what you want, sexually, and what you don't. Yesterday, in the shower... it made me realize I've never asked what you are ready for."

The answer was immediate. "Everything."

Kurt shook his head. "Define your everything. I want to know exact, specific things."

"Why?"

"Because I've done a lot; I've been doing a lot for a long time. So sometimes, in the heat of a moment like yesterday, I may forget that you haven't done it all yet. I don't want to push your limits or worse, inadvertently cross them. So I need to know what is okay with you. I need guidelines."

Blaine took a long drink of his cappuccino and sighed deeply. When he spoke again, there was a flush high on his cheeks.

"Okay. Confession time. Promise you won't judge me?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Have you _met_ me? I only judge based on clothes. Unless, wait – I won't judge you if you like playing dress-up, I promise."

Blaine chuckled. "No, I don't think I do. But other than that... Kurt, I mean it when I say I'm ready for _everything_. I know I'm a teenager, so it would be weird if I _wasn't_ permanently horny, but I kind of... I... Okay, let's put it this way: I'm not entirely sure I'm not a pervert."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I don't think anyone _normal_ fantasizes about so much, so often. Especially when they are seventeen and inexperienced. And even if they do, they probably wouldn't jump to do it all if they had a chance."

Kurt felt his mouth go dry. Yes, a public place was a good idea. He arched an eyebrow to prompt Blaine to go on.

"Obviously, I never actually did jump to do anything before, but I'm fairly certain I would have if I'd had an interested partner, and later, a place and time. I was even considering renting a motel room with Nathan for a few hours, right before... So, yeah. I mean, there's only so much you can do by yourself, and with your fingers being kind of short, and no discreet ways to get any um... toys? It's hard."

_Hard_ was a key word here, and not just for teenage needs... Kurt felt how flushed he must be despite the air-conditioning working full force. He swallowed thickly and reached for his coffee.

"You tried... with your fingers?" The image in his mind was almost too much. Blaine sighed, fidgeting with a stirrer.

"I did. Twice. I loved the feeling, but it was all wrong angles and too shallow, and more frustrating than satisfying like that, so I gave up until I'd have a chance to try with something else. Or... someone. But I want to. _God_ I want to."

Kurt may have lost it a little, judging by the choked sound that was suddenly out without his permission. He cleared his throat and tried to get back on track. Talking. They needed to finish talking.

And no, this wasn't a place where they could disappear into the bathroom together, just for a moment. Or a dark alley. Not that Kurt did that. Much. But _fuck_...

"Um, okay, yeah. I get the picture. And do you mean just fingers and toys or–"

Blaine shook his head quickly. "No, nonono, I mean _everything_, Kurt." His breathing was fast and shallow, his eyes darkened. Kurt swallowed a whimper and tried to make his brain work again.

"Okay. Good. Yeah. But... why would it make you feel like a pervert? It's not that weird for a gay boy to fantasize about that."

Blaine chuckled self-consciously. "Oh, but you don't know the half of it."

Kurt took a deep, steadying breath. "Tell me."

Blaine was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice trembled slightly.

"Come. The taste, the texture, how purely _male_ it is... I've always thought I would love it and... yeah. God, Kurt, what you did yesterday? I knew I wanted that, but not how much I'd love it. _So_ much..." He broke for a moment, biting his lip, before he continued. "And... I have this fantasy sometimes. There's a man there, someone I feel comfortable with. Someone I trust. And he... makes me do things. Like, tells me what to do, commands me, even. And I'm always _so_ obedient there. So _good_. Sometimes he talks dirty to me or just... uses me. No, I know, that sounds terrible, but it's in a caring, almost loving way and... god, I always get off so hard on it, Kurt." Blaine shook his head and reached for his coffee, his cheeks burning.

Kurt breathed out, barely audible, awed. "You have fantasies of submitting."

Blaine hid his face in his hands. His voice was muffled now. "Yeah. And... not just that. Sometimes my hands are restricted – tied or held down, or there's a blindfold, or... or I'm forbidden to come until he does, for hours even. What kind of teenager dreams of that, Kurt?"

Kurt reached to touch Blaine's hand in a fleeting, warm caress. "A bold one. Open minded, one who recognizes his needs."

Blaine's head shot up. His eyes were wide. "You're not freaked out."

"Not in the slightest. So I know you're open to a lot. Are there things you know you don't like? Don't want to try?"

Blaine thought for a moment. "Not many, I think. Pain doesn't appeal to me at all. Name-calling, I've read that some people like that. And... I saw this video with peeing and, no. Definitely not. I can't think of anything else right now."

Kurt nodded. It was somehow easier to manage his arousal now that he focused on specifics, and he really wanted to have it all out in the open, so that they could focus on doing, not talking later.

"Okay. Do you want me to ask you first whenever I want to do something that we haven't done before?"

Blaine shook his head without hesitation. "No. I trust you. And I'll tell you if I don't want something, is that okay?"

"Of course."

"What about you?" Blaine's face was earnest in front of him; so beautiful.

"The same deal."

"Okay."

There was a moment of silence when they just looked into each other's eyes, air heavy with want and promise between them. Kurt was the one to ask, his voice rough. "Would you like to come home with me now?"

Blaine sighed and shook his head. "As much as I hate to say that, I can't. I told Meg I'd meet her at noon."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Meg the kissing girl from Central Park?"

"Yes." Blaine was blushing again. "I thought it would be nice to have some more friends here, and we're both into music, so... I told her that I'm gay, though. We're just going to have lunch."

"So you need to go now."

"Yeah. And then Cooper will be back home, so..."

Kurt sighed. "Alright, I get it. It's okay, I should work on my designs anyway. I can't promise I won't think about you, though."

And oh, did he...


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **_Smut alert - this chapter may not be safe to read in public ;)_

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**

Lunch with Meg was loads of fun. Now that she knew that Blaine was gay, she kept teasing him about not giving her a chance, but there was no awkwardness or discomfort between them. Music was the main topic, of course, the two of them debating various college choices, with Blaine actually taking notes. Meg knew a lot about all the best places to study music and musical theater in New York, and in a few short months all the information would prove priceless when Blaine was deciding where to send his college applications.

Then the talk took a turn toward practical exams and performances, and before Blaine knew it, his new friend had convinced him to go to an open mic event with her that night and try his hand at charming the New York audience. They parted, promising to meet at eight, and the excitement that accompanied Blaine the whole way home reminded him of his first weeks as the lead singer for the Warblers, where every rehearsal and every performance, even just in the Dalton common room, made his heart pound and soar.

Oh yes. Performing was when Blaine felt happiest.

He spent the afternoon going through songs he thought would be fitting for the occasion, bouncing around the house until Cooper threatened to cut his coffee supply. He also called Kurt to ask, shyly, if he'd be interested in going with them, but Kurt was already deep in designing mode, absentmindedly rambling about corsets and purple lace, so in the end, it was only Blaine and Meg. Well, and the audience of about a hundred people.

When he came home late that night, Blaine felt as if he floated on a cloud. Not only had the audience loved his singing, applauding loudly and calling him back for an encore, but the owner of the bar approached him after his numbers to talk. He asked Blaine if he'd be interested in coming to play for three or four hours one night the following week. He wanted to pay him and all, and if Blaine did well, he'd have a chance to play two or three nights a week for the rest of his stay.

Which would be amazing – a chance to earn his own money and get some experience, maybe even references. Meg, impressed and happy for him, told him it would look great on his college applications.

Lying in bed that night, Blaine considered calling Kurt and telling him all about his evening, but in the end he decided against it. He'd tell him in person. He wanted to see Kurt's face lighting up with that proud smile of his when he heard.

Grinning, Blaine switched off the lamp and closed his eyes.

* * *

The reality proved to be disappointing.

Most of Sunday passed without a word from Kurt, his phone going straight to voicemail. So in the afternoon Blaine went to his apartment to share the news and, hopefully, celebrate – with hot coffee and a steamy make-out session at least. Instead, he found Kurt by his kitchenette table, surrounded by empty coffee cups and dozens of drawings, his hair a mess and dark circles around his eyes. He was still wearing the same outfit he had on in the coffee shop yesterday.

Kurt barely looked at him over yet another sketch of a female figure wearing some sort of a complicated dress, and when he did, it took him a few seconds to register who he was looking at. His smile was tired, but bright when he finally did.

"Hi! Were we supposed to meet today? I'm sorry, I got the most inspired idea ever and I just had to get it all on paper while it's still fresh. Theatricality in everyday clothes, Blaine, what do you think? Something for those who like to dress with flair. I just need a little more time and then I'll be with you."

So Blaine waited, practicing the songs he planned to play at the bar on Thursday, changing and perfecting his songlist until it looked just right. But over three hours had passed and Kurt still hadn't moved from his seat, his pencil gliding and whispering across the paper with increasing speed. Finally, everything went quiet and Blaine looked up from the keyboard, hopeful.

Kurt was asleep with his head on the table, his eyes closed and the pencil about to fall out of his loosening grip. He looked _exhausted_. A warm wave of tenderness rose in Blaine's chest. He got up from the piano and went to gently take the pencil away. It was enough for Kurt to wake up with a start. There was smudged graphite on his cheek and the lines of the topmost, unfinished sketch looked shaky and imprecise, but he wasn't about to give up easily.

"Just a minute, 'm almost done," he mumbled, his voice scratchy, and Blaine decided it was time to put his foot down.

"Mm, no, baby. That's enough for today." He'd never used the endearment outside of his head before and it surged in a warm wave through his chest, so much better when out in the open. "Come on, let's get you to bed. You're too tired to even draw properly. Get some sleep, you can finish when you rest a bit."

Kurt grumbled a little, but he clearly didn't have energy to protest as Blaine helped him up and into the bedroom. Undressing Kurt who'd gone limp and heavy against his chest was another level of intimacy that Blaine had never thought of before. Far from sex or romance, this felt like pure loving care, one that partners or – the thought daring but not unwelcome – husbands could share.

Kurt was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and Blaine tucked him in and spent a long moment just looking at him – the vulnerable beauty of his face, his strong arms, the line of his long neck. Then he softly kissed Kurt's cheek, closed the bedroom door and went to tidy up the kitchen. He washed the dishes, put the sketches in a neat stack ordered by numbers Kurt had put on them and cracked the window open to let fresh air in. Then he slipped out of the apartment and returned home, a little sad, but with love glowing like hot embers in his chest.

* * *

But even the love and tender memories of Kurt's soft features as he fell asleep weren't enough to cancel out the nasty mood that Blaine woke up in the next morning. He knew it had plenty to do with the disappointment of Kurt not even asking how the open mic had gone. And while he scolded himself for being selfish and unreasonable, the feeling was there anyway. So he decided to run to the gym and try to sweat out the stupid, childish need to throw a tantrum.

He boxed some and then worked out until he was barely able to stand straight, his body and clothes soaked in sweat. But he felt better afterwards, finally able to accept his feelings with no grudge against Kurt. It felt right; healthy. He could deal with his disappointment like a man, not a pouty kid.

His phone rang just as he was opening his locker to take out his toiletries and head for the shower. _Kurt_. Blaine looked at the clock overhead – it was barely ten. But then again, he put Kurt to bed before eight last night.

Kurt's voice was low and urgent when Blaine picked up.

"Hi. Where are you?"

"At the gym. I was just going to shower and go home."

"_Ohmygod_." It was basically a moan. Certain parts of Blaine's anatomy proved that they weren't tired enough not to react immediately. "Forget the shower, I need you here _right now_."

"But Kurt, I'm sweaty and disgusting..."

"You can use my shower, but move your sweet ass and come here _now_." Kurt's tone thrilled deliciously in Blaine's blood and he swallowed a whimper, mindful of other guys in the locker room.

"Okay. I'm on my way."

Half an hour later Kurt let him in and Blaine barely had time to open his mouth to say _hello_ before he was pressed roughly against the front door with Kurt devouring his lips without the tiniest attempt at finesse. Blaine had never seen him like this, practically growling with desire, and it was like wildfire for him, flaring in a matter of seconds until he whimpered and clutched at Kurt's hips.

But as soon as he did, his arms were lifted and shoved against the wood overhead. Kurt held both his wrists easily with one hand, his grip tight but not enough to hurt, while the fingers of the other hand tangled in Blaine's hair and tugged his head back to stretch his neck. Blaine felt his hips buck uncontrollably when Kurt's hot tongue swirled down the slope of his throat. And then Kurt's teeth scraped none too gently on the side of his neck and the last of thoughts in Blaine's head sizzled to nothing.

He wasn't sure how exactly it happened but some time later he was naked against the door, wanting nothing more than to come as Kurt, still fully clothed, was kneeling in front of him, kissing and sucking at the crease of Blaine's thigh, his balls, never reaching his aching, leaking cock.

There was something not quite right though, some thought trying to push through with annoying insistence, and finally it hit him: he was still sweaty and possibly smelly from over two hours of his workout.

The thought was enough for him to stir uncomfortably and try to stop Kurt's enthusiastic exploration.

"Kurt." Another shot of overwhelming pleasure distracted him, but he tried again. "Kurt, wait, no, I need a shower. Come on."

With a disgruntled grumble Kurt stood back up and kissed his lips, deep enough for Blaine to get a hint of musky, sweaty taste on his tongue. Oh no. _Ew_. He should have showered before coming here after all. He always took care to be fresh and nice before every date, especially since he sweated quite a lot. And now that Kurt had seen him – tasted him! – like that, he would probably be disgusted and never want to be with him ever again and –

"Okay, if you insist. But suck me first."

_Ngh_. It was the firm, commanding voice again and Blaine was already switching their positions and dropping to his knees, all self-consciousness forgotten the moment Kurt opened his fly and lowered his pants just enough for his cock to spring free. The head was rosy and shining with precome in a way that made Blaine's mouth water. He reached to touch, but Kurt shook his head, making him whimper with anticipation.

"No, no hands. Just open your sweet pretty mouth and take it, I'll do all the work." As if to confirm his words, Kurt took his own cock and circled the tip over Blaine's eagerly open mouth, smearing the moisture all over his lips. "Don't come, no matter what." He dove into Blaine's mouth, careful not to choke him, but deeper than ever before, and spontaneous combustion suddenly became a real possibility because _holy shit_.

Kurt's cock stretching Blaine's mouth enough to make his jaw ache, sliding in and out at a slow, controlled pace and filling him perfectly; Kurt's fingers tightening in Blaine's already loosened curls; the discomfort of hardwood under his knees grounding him enough to keep him from exploding – everything was a blur of pictures and sensations. Kurt's eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in pleasure. The salty flood of come on Blaine's tongue. The trickle of it down his chin as Kurt withdrew while still pulsing, to avoid pushing too deep on reflex.

Blaine dug his nails deep in his own thigh to keep from flying over the edge, and took it all. Graciously. Eagerly. Never wanting to stop.

He whined when Kurt's hands pulled him up. His knees protested the position he'd put them in, but he didn't care. He'd do it again. He'd do a lot more.

Kurt kissed his swollen lips. "Thank you, beautiful. That was perfect – _you_ are perfect. Now go shower quickly and I'll take care of you when you're done. Don't bother with clothes."

It was possibly the fastest shower of Blaine's life.

When he got out, Kurt was in the bedroom, pacing. It felt a little weird to be stark naked and painfully, obviously aroused with Kurt being fully dressed again, but only for a moment, until he took Blaine in his arms and kissed him. The soft cotton of Kurt's shirt caressed Blaine's skin, the jeans of his pants was slightly scratchy and exotically new, and waiting for whatever was about to follow filled Blaine with sweet anticipation.

What would that be? After their talk two days ago, he knew it could be anything.

He learned soon enough. Kurt turned him so that he faced the bed, and pressed a few kisses to the back of Blaine's neck and shoulders. Then he withdrew half a step. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but with the same commanding note that made Blaine's blood sing.

"Bend down, legs wide." Kurt pushed him gently so that Blaine bent in half, his forearms resting on the bed. Heart pounding, he moved so that his legs were spread and the realization what he must look like made him shiver with arousal. He felt so exposed, on display, and Kurt must have liked that, judging by the throaty groan Blaine heard behind him, followed by a whisper of discarded clothes.

Kurt was getting naked.

Would they–? Would he lose his virginity today, in the most definite of ways?

He couldn't wait.

* * *

Naked and bent over Blaine, Kurt kissed down the perfectly toned, muscled back, down to the the twin dimples at the small of it. He took his time, licking and grazing with his teeth while Blaine whined impatiently and pressed back against Kurt's cock, already half-hard again.

God, he was so gorgeous, so perfect, all exposed and trembling with anticipation. Kurt ghosted his fingertips down over the dusty pink dot of Blaine's asshole – so lovely, untouched and wanting – and his heart fluttered, moved by the display of trust and desire. Blaine keened at the contact.

"So pretty. You're so beautiful like that, Blaine." Kurt kneeled down and kissed the swell of Blaine's delicious round ass, played with the firm curves for a moment, but the pink asterisk was too tempting to resist. He sucked at his finger and slid it down the crack; no pressure, just a soft stroke, and Blaine gasped.

"Kurt, are you going to –" The rest was lost in a hoarse moan as Kurt's tongue followed the path his finger had taken, tasting the clean, soap-smelling skin and reveling in the exploration.

"You're so tight, so perfect," he murmured, licking languidly over and around Blaine's entrance. "So fucking hot, Blaine, so ready for me. I could slide in just like that." He pushed his tongue past the barely resisting muscles, Blaine's shocked cry of pleasure shaking his small frame. Kurt speared his tongue in and out a few more times, Blaine's constant keening spurring him on, before retreating and kneeling lower to mouth over his balls. "I could finger you open right now..."

"Oh god, yes, please yes, do it, I want you, want you so much..." Blaine was babbling, trying to push against Kurt's fingers, but Kurt had other plans for now. Still murmuring praises and filthy little offers, he moved to push his tongue into Blaine's asshole in earnest now, pumping in and out at a fast pace, backing out every few strokes to dance his tongue around the rim.

Blaine's voice was loud, louder, his ass pressing back against Kurt's mouth, his hands fisting in the duvet. And then, when all of Blaine's muscles were drawn taut, trembling on the cusp of falling, Kurt paused.

Everything stopped for a heartbeat.

Until his finger slid in, slow but deep, and Blaine cried out and clenched around it, causing Kurt to moan at the shocking tightness as Blaine was coming and coming and coming, his cock untouched.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

Sebastian hadn't planned to go to _The Tipsy Hippo _on Thursday, though Cooper had told him about Blaine's performance. But then the extortion case he was assisting on blew up and all shit broke loose. He had to stay at the office until after nine, working his ass off, and he definitely needed a drink afterwards. So he could just as well go and have a few with his friends, listening to Tadpole Anderson use those undisputable talents of his for the greater good.

The bar was already crowded when he arrived, so it took him a moment to order a drink and find his friends. Or, as it turned out, his _friend_ – Kurt was sitting alone by the table near the small stage. Clearly Cooper couldn't leave work at a normal hour even for his own brother's debut. He would come eventually though, Sebastian was sure of it.

He made his way towards the table, meandering among chatting people by the bar. Blaine was on the stage with a guitar, looking quite dashing in all black and charming the audience with the well-known words of _Your Song_. No one could deny that his voice worked beautifully with the song, but that wasn't what pulled Sebastian's attention most; it was the way the kid kept looking at Kurt. He probably thought he was being subtle, but it was painfully obvious who Blaine directed the song to. Sebastian was just going to poke a little fun at it as he finally reached the table, but then he saw Kurt's expression – and paused, intrigued.

Kurt hadn't yet noticed his arrival and his face was open in a way it rarely was in public, soft-featured and reflecting something that definitely wasn't hilarity, his eyes trained unblinking onstage. The moment Sebastian put his glass on the table, the expression was gone and Kurt was back to his normal self, smiling at him, but that few seconds was enough.

Something was brewing here.

"So it seems like the baby gay here wants to marry you and have your children? Pretty, I'm glad I don't have a vagina. I would have to worry about accidental pregnancy just from the amount of hormones radiating off that stage." He said as he sat down, but the laugh Kurt gave him in return sounded only half-sincere.

"He may have a bit of a crush."

"You _think_?" Sebastian made a face. "I get it though, you're a hot package. So, have you tapped that ass already?"

"_Seb_!" Kurt might have played offended all he wanted, but there was still something... off.

"What?"

"That would be kind of asking for trouble, don't you think?"

"_Duh_. I mean, I understand the temptation – young meat, the stamina of a teenager... yum. But I hope you're smart enough to leave the fantasy in the spank bank where it belongs, aren't you? He's barely legal, and Cooper's brother, so it would be all kinds of inappropriate."

"What would be?" Coop was just slipping into the third chair.

"You sleeping with me." Sebastian never lost a beat, but cursed inwardly. His investigation would have to wait then. And oh, would he investigate. He was going to get to the bottom of this. Sebastian Smythe hated being left out of the loop.

* * *

Cooper got home uncharacteristically early on Friday. It was barely five and Blaine was only home because it was raining outside and Kurt was off fabric-shopping, which he said he preferred to do by himself, to be fully focused. So having his brother's company for the evening was nice, though dinner wasn't ready yet.

But the moment Coop entered the room, Blaine could clearly see that something was wrong. His brother looked worried and... guilty maybe? But why?

Coop leaned against the armchair opposite from the sofa Blaine was occupying.

"Bee? I'm really, really sorry."

He paused, as if searching for the right words, and the few seconds of silence were enough for Blaine to think about all kinds of terrible things that could have happened to make Cooper so distraught. Was it something about their parents? Or Kurt? He felt his heartbeat quicken before Cooper continued.

"I have to go away for a week, on a business trip to Seattle. I'm so sorry to leave you here alone, but with the audit in progress and my recent promotion, I just can't refuse, not this time, and..."

"Oh." Blaine felt almost like giggling; it seemed so silly that Coop would fret so much for such a silly reason. "It's okay. I'll be fine, I'm a big boy. And Kurt's here if I need anything. When do you have to go?"

Coop looked relieved, but frowned again at the question. "Actually, right about now. No, okay, more like in an hour, but I only have time to shower and get ready. Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself?"

"_Yes_. Go pack."

"But... maybe I could ask Kurt to take you in for the time I'm away? I don't want you to get lonely."

Blaine rolled his eyes. He wasn't used to such overprotectiveness. If anything, he'd learned long ago to expect the opposite.

"Coop, go pack. Call Kurt if it makes you feel better, but I'll be perfectly fine. I love that you worry about me, but stop now. Go."

Cooper nodded and went to his bedroom, and it was only when he left for the airport an hour later, when the apartment got still and quiet again, that Blaine realized.

He was going to be by himself for the whole week. No need to come home before Coop returned from work. No one asking what he'd been doing all day. No parent figure whatsoever. He could be with Kurt until midnight without explaining, and no one would blink an eye.

He wouldn't hope for much time together, not with Kurt deep in his creative place again, and Blaine himself hired to play at _The Tipsy Hippo_ three nights a week. But even an hour or two more in the evenings, just to eat dinner together without hurry, would be a gift.

He'd have to tell Kurt as soon as he called.

Which happened an hour later. Blaine didn't even have time to say anything before Kurt trilled, his voice bright and excited.

"Okay, pack your stuff and come over. I can't let you be lonely in this big empty apartment, can I? Coop called; you're staying with me so that I can keep an eye on you. Or, you know, other body parts."

Blaine would swear he felt his jaw hit the carpet as the full meaning of what he heard hit him. Hours with Kurt, days. _Nights_. He swallowed thickly, barely able to believe it. "But... are you sure? I mean, you're busy designing and –"

But Kurt shushed him impatiently. "I can be busy while close to you, too. And yes, I'm sure. Hurry up, I'm home and I want to kiss you."

Blaine had never packed his overnight bag faster.

He had to turn around and run back twice on his way over to Kurt's apartment. The first time, halfway there, he remembered that he hadn't packed his toiletries. Then, after getting out of the building again, he realized that he'd left his keys in the lock.

When he finally reached his destination, breathless from the fast pace and with his head full of steaming hot images, he was met with a scene he hadn't expected. Kurt wasn't waiting for him in bed, in a rush to rip his clothes off and make use of the time they were given. Instead, he was fully dressed in the kitchen, humming happily and stirring something that smelled of fresh tomatoes and basil. He turned to Blaine with a smile when he heard him enter.

"You're right on time," Kurt moved to kiss him softly and then turned back to switch off the burner. "Go wash your hands, dinner is ready."

It was just a simple spaghetti Napoli, but it could have been ambrosia, it tasted so perfect. _Everything _was perfect. This evening was theirs, as was the night that would follow and the morning afterwards. He had to stop himself from bouncing with excitement.

Eating dinner together tonight felt different from any other day. There was possibility in the air, and a promise:_ we can savor every moment; there's time_.

"Do you like salmon? I thought we could bake some for dinner tomorrow." Kurt swirled the last of his spaghetti onto the fork, and Blaine felt a warm wave of happiness spread over him, up to the very ends of his fingers and toes. They'd be making dinner _together_ tomorrow.

"I love salmon." _I love you_.

Kurt smiled bright like the sun. "Great."

* * *

Blaine offered to wash up after dinner, not just because he was polite, but because it felt so different from the usual chore it was. For the few short moments by the sink, he let himself indulge in a fantasy of Kurt and himself in two, three years – living together, coming home after work and classes to eat dinner and spend the evening in, just the two of them. They'd divide up the cooking and cleaning, and afterwards they could snuggle on the sofa to talk about their days, maybe watch a movie or some show. Sometimes they'd fall asleep in front of the TV, tangled together, only half-comfortable, but warm and happy. They'd wake up to the end screen of the DVD, late at night, and drag themselves to the bedroom, where –

"Have you watched _Moulin Rouge_?" Kurt's voice from the living room worked like a wake-up call. Blaine looked at the last plate that he'd been trying to wash a hole in, and blushed.

"Only about a hundred times. But I can always watch it again." He rinsed the sink and dried his hands before going over to where Kurt was already seated on the sofa. The similarity to what he'd just been thinking about was so striking that it took Blaine's breath away.

"Great. That will work perfectly, then."

There was a bowl of red grapes on the coffee table. Not even ten minutes of the movie had passed before Kurt started feeding them to Blaine, first with his fingers, and a moment later, his lips. The little explosions of juice as they bit into each one were a convenient prelude to kissing – wet, a little sticky, their grins making it all crooked and perfect.

Kurt moved to straddle Blaine's thighs with the next grape in hand, but he didn't offer it to him. Instead, he touched it with his lips, the pink of his tongue darting out to lick a droplet of water from the shiny skin. When Kurt slowly slid the grape into his mouth until his lips formed a perfect little _O_ around it, Blaine moaned and pulled him into a kiss so fast the fruit burst and they were both splashed with the sweet juice.

It didn't matter. What mattered was kissing Kurt like the world was coming to an end; feeling his strong fingers tangle into Blaine's hair; recognizing the hard press of Kurt's erection and pressing against it. What mattered _more_ was that Blaine didn't even have to glance at the clock. Whatever time it was, it didn't matter. They had all night.

Kurt drew back and away from him suddenly, the tantalizing sounds he was letting out paused, and Blaine grumbled in protest. Kurt smiled, all flushed and a little breathless.

"Wait. There's no hurry. Let's cool off a little."

Blaine wasn't sure why they needed to stop when they could simply enjoy each other all they wanted, but he didn't argue. Having Kurt sit in his lap and sing with the movie before he leaned back in a moment later was more than enough to make him happy. Besides, he understood eventually. They were making out slowly just for the pleasure of it, because they _could_ – without watching the hour or keeping an eye open for anyone approaching their car like he'd needed to with Nathan. They didn't have to race to get off before life interrupted. And there was a new kind of delight in it, a prolonged burn that Blaine hadn't known before, but loved already.

* * *

The movie had ended a long while ago and they were still at it, the addicting push-pull of getting close, but never close enough keeping them both on desperate edge. Every nerve was buzzing in Blaine's body, his skin felt hot and tingly at every point of contact and his lips were swollen and oversensitive from hours of kissing. Kurt said _no undressing_, but there were hands on the heated skin under shirts and lips sucking on necks and collarbones, and occasional nails or teeth when everything felt like too much, not enough.

It was in a moment like that when Kurt gently disentangled himself from Blaine's arms and got up in a smooth motion.

"Play for me?"

"Huh?" Blaine's brain was so far from _Station: Thinking_ that it took a while to process Kurt's request. When he did, his eyebrows shot up. "Really? _Now_?" It sounded like a whine, and Kurt grinned.

"Yes. Could you? I have to work a little, but I'd love it if you played for me while I draw."

"But –" _What about sex_, he wanted to ask, but bit his tongue. Kurt understood, though.

"You can wait up for me or go to bed. If you want to sleep with me, of course? I didn't mean to assume." Blaine nodded quickly, slightly dizzy from the mere thought. Kurt seemed relieved. "Okay, so – whichever you prefer. And... hold _that_ thought, we'll come back to it later."

With a mischievous smile, Kurt slid one fingertip along the prominent bulge in Blaine's pants.

Oh, Blaine would wait alright. No matter how long.

* * *

The last thing Blaine remembered before he woke up to Kurt's voice whispering his name was a block of commercials when he'd decided to rest his eyes just a bit. Now the TV was off, as were all the lights. Kurt's face was soft-edged and beautiful in the darkness, and if Blaine's eyes would just stay open for any reasonable amount of time, he could look at it forever. But his eyelids were heavy, his brain sluggish and uncooperative, and his stumbling attempts at acting awake only made Kurt chuckle. He managed to get up from the sofa and walk to the bedroom, but the big comfy bed was summoning him and its call was irresistible.

It took Kurt's amused prodding to even make Blaine shuck off his shirt and kick off his pants, but then he flopped on the bed with a groan. His eyes, barely open to begin with, closed again immediately and he'd be off to dreamland in no time if it wasn't for the very welcome sensation of soft, warm skin against his back.

The realization that he was in Kurt's bed and in Kurt's arms was almost enough to start Blaine's brain again – _almost_. But it was definitely enough for his body to react. Settling further back into Kurt's body revealed two more interesting facts that made Blaine moan sleepily: Kurt was completely naked. And completely hard.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Kurt's hips stuttered forward, his hand sneaking over Blaine's belly to cup him, and Blaine wanted more. But he also wanted to stay like this, limp and loose, not moving.

"Kurt," he whined. "Want you."

A hot tongue traced down the side of his neck. "I want you too. Can I take off your boxers? You don't have to do anything, just let me take care of you."

"Please." He helped by moving his hips a little, but other than that he remained boneless and relaxed on his side, his eyes closed. There was a stunning kind of calm in him, his perpetually racing thoughts quiet for once and the feeling of contentment cocooning him like a fluffy warm cloud.

A click of a cap sounded loud and familiar, and immediately there were goosebumps on Blaine's arms, a shiver of anticipation running down his spine. But whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. Kurt's fingers just brushed over the crack of his ass, barely there, but enough to tease a small whimper out of Blaine's throat, and then they were between his thighs, wet and slippery with lube – plenty of it. They danced around for a moment and then they were gone. Another click, a heartbeat of silence, and then Kurt's whisper was in his ear again.

"Don't freak out, Bee."

The nickname came right along with Kurt's well-slicked cock sliding against Blaine's ass and no, he wasn't freaking out – he just _wanted_ so bad. Letting go, trusting Kurt completely came so easily for him, and he wasn't even surprised. _Everything_ was so easy with Kurt. Everything felt so _right_.

Kurt's cock barely brushed where Blaine ached to feel it, and then moved further, slipping between his thighs. A bit of rearrangement followed until Blaine's legs were pressed tightly together and Kurt's fingers encircled Blaine's cock loosely, and _oh_, _yeah, please._ Every movement of Kurt's hips shocked Blaine anew.

Kurt rocked slowly, in a gentle rhythm; there was nothing hurried or desperate about it, and soon Blaine fell into a strange, wonderful state of half-sleep, half-delight, held safely between Kurt's hands and his body, in the darkness filled only with the whisper of sheets against their skin and their soft moans.

It felt like hours – hours in their own little world of desire and bliss, sweet waves of pleasure mounting and licking at Blaine until he could take no more, until he overflowed and melted into it, letting go of anything he still held onto.

Sleep took him so fast he didn't even notice Kurt cleaning them up, but he must have, because in the morning there was no sticky discomfort. He woke up warm and well-rested, but the best part was Kurt's head on his shoulder and his arm slung easily across his chest. Their legs were tangled together under the duvet and there was bare skin _everywhere_, and really, waking up with another man for the first time couldn't be more perfect than this.

* * *

Kurt nuzzled closer into the warmth of the body beside him. Memories of last night danced through his head, making him smile against the smooth skin under his cheek. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Blaine's face, its expression soft and tender, and Kurt couldn't suppress a grin.

"Mm, morning. How long have you been awake?"

"A while. I've been enjoying the view." Blaine smoothed his fingers through Kurt's undoubtedly messy hair. "And I've wanted to do _this_ all along."

Kurt blushed –_blushed! what was he, sixteen again?_ – and placed a kiss on Blaine's shoulder, trying to hide his face. Blaine chuckled softly.

"You're adorable. So... how does it usually work?"

Kurt frowned and looked back up. "What do you mean?"

"Well... when a man stays over? I guess... I just wonder how you like your mornings."

Blaine was clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but Kurt could see the tension in his features. He shook his head.

"I don't know, Blaine. I hardly ever _do_ the morning afterthing. But this isn't a one-night stand, is it? So let's not worry about the morning after etiquette."

He started tracing abstract patterns on the heated skin of Blaine's stomach and must have found a ticklish spot because Blaine giggled and squirmed under him. Kurt's fingers slid lower, following the pronounced _V_ of Blaine's hips and ghosting over the coarse hair, and soon their bodies were interested in more than just cuddling in a warm bed. It wasn't particularly comfortable though and after a moment Kurt rolled away and sat up. He answered Blaine's confused look with an apologetic smile.

"How about we take a short break? I don't know about you, but I really need to pee and brush my teeth. And then we can come back here and pick up where we left off?"

Blaine grinned. "I like your thinking."

When they met in bed again ten minutes later, both smelling like mint and soap, and smiling bashfully, there was a moment of silence as they kneeled opposite each other and just looked. They'd been naked together before and done things that could definitely qualify as sex, but this felt different – more intimate, more meaningful, simply _more_, and Kurt hesitated for a second. But then Blaine leaned in and kissed him, and any doubts were gone. This felt right.

It didn't take long until they were both hard and pressing against each other, desperate to be even closer. There was nothing subtle about their touches and kisses this morning. It was pure, shameless want, and soon Blaine was panting, arching under Kurt's weight, his nails digging into the flesh of Kurt's ass with a sharp sting that only worked to spur him on.

Sometime later, after they'd gotten their breath back and cleaned themselves up as much as they could without leaving the bed, Blaine surprised Kurt with a bout of post-orgasmic sincerity, more open and direct than he'd probably be otherwise.

"Mm, Kurt? Remember how you um... put your finger inside me, last week? I... I really liked that. Do you think we could do that again?"

Kurt groaned, feigning exasperation. "I was just thinking about taking a nice little nap. And now all I want is to watch you fall apart under my fingers, thank you very much." He rolled his eyes and grinned. "Yes, of course we can do that."

Blaine blushed, his voice low and rough. "How about now?"

_Damn teenagers and their stamina_...

But Kurt was far from opposed. His dick insisted it could easily keep up with a seventeen-year-old, and well, it turned out to be right.

And the memory of Blaine as he was thrashing on the bed with two of Kurt's fingers deep inside him, his hands fisted into the sheets and his voice raw from moaning, would forever stay with Kurt as one of the most breathtaking moments of his sex life. Blaine was completely out of control and so gorgeous like this. A picture of pure primal beauty, that had Kurt biting his lip to keep in words that wanted to fly out, but couldn't.

And when Blaine's body clenched and released, Kurt barely needed to touch himself to climax right along with him, the tight heat around his fingers too much to bear.

* * *

Blaine wasn't sure how he'd been able to live without sex before – without Kurt's touch and his kisses, not knowing intimately the texture and taste of his skin _everywhere_. The thought that just a month ago he hadn't known how much there was to feel and discover was making his head spin whenever he thought about it.

The week they had to themselves was the most sensual – and sexual – Blaine had ever had. They finally had time, and plenty of it, to cherish every moment together and languidly bask in each other's presence. Slow and sweet, desperate and hungry for more, and every state in between – they were able to get enough of each other at last; whenever they wanted, however they pleased. By the time Friday rolled around Blaine was sated, relaxed and pretty much spent, feeling more in love than ever.

If he was being honest, he'd hoped they'd have progressed to "real" sex by now (Kurt had laughed and said they'd been having real sex all along, and to stop using heteronormative definitions), but he definitely couldn't complain about recent developments.

Kurt had introduced him to his drawer of sex toys.

One night early in the week, when Blaine was lying on his stomach with his ass in the air, strung tight and desperate and shamelessly begging for cock, Kurt reached to his bedside table only to come back with a slim, black vibrator. Its head was a small sphere, barely bigger than a fingertip. Five more spheres, each a bit larger, followed, together creating a phallic shape. By the time the third segment was inside him, Blaine didn't know what to do with himself, his body buzzing with so much stimuli he was sure he was going to explode.

But Kurt made sure he couldn't. He fucked Blaine slowly with the toy until he took in the whole length, the burning sensation when the last segments moved in and out of him just making him more desperate, more certain that he loved this. Only then did Kurt speed up the movements of his hand and when he switched on the vibration, Blaine fell apart immediately, with an intensity he didn't expect.

* * *

Of course, sex was hardly the only thing on their minds. It was there, it was frequent, but there was also the rest of normal, everyday life. Kurt mostly worked from home all week, disappearing into his workroom for hours at a time to sew samples of his new designs. Blaine started his regular performances on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, so he was spending a lot of time practicing and perfecting his setlists. They cooked and ate together, met in between rooms to kiss or talk about something one of them had just thought about. They had quiet evenings watching movies and, sometimes making out until they decided they should just switch off the TV and focus on each other.

The domesticity of it all settled like a thick fuzzy blanket around Blaine's heart.

But his favorite part, one he hadn't considered when he'd fantasized about living with a boyfriend one day, was falling asleep and waking up together. He hadn't slept with anyone since he was a kid, and even then it had only happened when he'd had a bad dream and sneaked into Cooper's room sometimes. He had no idea how safe and happy he would feel gathered into Kurt's embrace, listening to his strong heartbeat and his breath evening out as he was falling asleep. Every night Blaine tried to be the last one to drift to sleep, and every morning he woke up first, collecting those memories and preserving them deep in his heart to remember during the long months of separation.

Because there was no way to ignore it: it was August already. They had about three weeks left before they would have to part for almost a year. But Blaine was optimistic – he was a good student, and if he did his best with college applications and practical exams, he should have no trouble getting into at least one of his chosen New York schools. And he and Kurt – they would be fine. They had to be. He could wait a year if living with Kurt one day in the future was his reward.

They'd be fine.

Right?


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Kurt was careful not to let himself think.

Thinking was a very bad idea during this way too short, perfect week. If he let himself think, Kurt wouldn't be able to enjoy the quiet domesticity that filled him with a calm he hadn't thought he'd feel again since James moved out. He wouldn't simply appreciate each of the breathtaking moments of intimacy or take as much as he could from them while they lasted.

But even as he burned in Blaine's hands or melted under his lips, a quiet voice in his head was always telling him not to forget that it wouldn't last. It couldn't. Not in their situation, not like this – something would crash, sooner or later.

Kurt did his best to ignore that voice.

* * *

He was a fairly light sleeper, which was why he usually preferred to sleep alone, but Blaine turned out to be comfortably cuddly, yet not clingy enough to hog too much space. Kurt didn't mind sleeping with him, not in the slightest. Even though he talked in his sleep.

Usually it was just barely comprehensive mumbling that sometimes turned into random words and phrases. But twice during that week, Kurt heard things that caused him to wake up fully, and made him lay awake for long hours afterwards thinking, even when Blaine was peacefully asleep in his arms again.

The first time, it was because Blaine cried in his sleep, apologizing over and over again for some unknown mistakes and pleading for forgiveness. It nearly broke Kurt's heart when he heard who Blaine was talking to.

No one should feel that much anguish and pain when thinking of their own father.

The second time, Blaine only said one sentence, with a bright smile on his face, but Kurt's heart clenched just as much.

"I love you so much, Kurt – _so much_."

Kurt didn't get back to sleep until dawn. It was impossible not to think then, and thinking _hurt_.

Overall, their week was sort of perfect. There was only one hitch.

On Wednesday, they had just finished a hot, desperate round of morning sex (okay, it was noon. A nooner then. And _god_, Blaine took to the toys so beautifully, Kurt wanted to throw them aside and take their place, but not yet. Not yet) when there was a knock on the door. Blaine was dead to the world at this point, having fallen asleep right after his second orgasm, so Kurt covered him tenderly, grabbed his yoga pants and went to see about the unexpected visitor, quietly closing the door behind him. When he saw who was at the door, he regretted not pretending he wasn't home.

"Hi Kurrrrt. Looking good today." Sebastian grinned, handing him a big brown bag with a Starbucks logo. "I have a long lunch hour today so I decided to visit you. We are in serious need of catching up, my dear." He leaned in and stole a quick kiss from Kurt's lips, the way he usually did; except this time it suddenly felt like too much, too forward, unwelcome.

"Seb, it's not a good moment. I'm... busy."

Sebastian wiggled his eyebrows and grinned lecherously. "Ooh, another hookup? And he's still here? Wow, must be a good one if he held your attention long enough to stay the night."

Kurt should have foreseen his friend's next move, he'd known him long enough, but he was still slow from too little sleep and amazing amounts of excellent sex.

Sebastian ducked under Kurt's arm and went right for the bedroom door, opening it before Kurt had a chance to do anything. He got pushed away and smacked up the head the next instant, but the damage was done. He'd have to be blind not to recognize the dark curls on Kurt's pillow; and Sebastian was far from blind. In fact, he was one of the most sharp-eyed people Kurt had ever met.

Kurt closed the bedroom door again and pulled Seb away, not even trying to think of explanations or cover the truth. It wouldn't work anyway, Sebastian could see right through him when he wanted. At this point Kurt only prayed for Blaine not to wake up before he did damage control. Adding him to the mix would be too much for his not-yet-caffeinated self.

When they got to the kitchen, Kurt busied himself washing the two wine glasses left in the sink last night. Seb was silent behind him, waiting for him to speak first. All too soon, the glasses were clean and dry, and Kurt turned to face his friend.

"Whatever you want to say, I've already said it to myself. So don't waste your breath."

Sebastian shook his head, incredulous. "Oh man. You're asking for trouble, you know that?"

Kurt shrugged. Of course he knew. He'd known all along. It still didn't stop him.

Sebastian opened the Starbucks' bag forgotten on the counter and took out coffee cups and salad containers. Without a word, they settled at the table to eat. Five minutes passed before Sebastian spoke again, his voice softer and more serious than Kurt had heard it in a very long time.

"Kurt... Is he worth it? Breaking Cooper's trust, losing his friendship?"

Kurt didn't answer, just kept on digging in the barely touched salad with his fork. It was unfair to ask him that. How could he compare the worth of his long-time friendship versus what he'd found in Blaine? Why did he _have_ to compare? Or choose? Why did Sebastian come here today, bringing the reality Kurt had been trying so hard to ignore in the idyll of the previous weeks?

He didn't look in Seb's eyes when he asked. "Will you –"

Sebastian didn't let him finish. "I won't tell him, obviously, don't even ask. But he _will_ learn sooner or later. You two aren't exactly subtle, you know. I've suspected for some time there's something brewing there. And I won't lie for you, Kurt, if Coop asks. I think it's stupid, what you're doing – and just for a piece of hot young ass. I'd say you should break it off as soon as you can, before anyone gets hurt, but it's your life and your choices. I just hope it doesn't ruin the best two relationships I've had in my life since my nanny died." He paused and sighed. "I really hope you know what you're doing, Kurt."

There wasn't much to say after that. Any attempt to change the topic fell flat, and soon Sebastian looked at his watch and got up.

"Okay, I'll be going. But Kurt... think about it, okay?"

Kurt nodded, even if thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. When the door closed behind Sebastian he washed his face with cold water to hold in the tears that were trying to escape, and promised himself he'd think later. After Cooper came back. Just a few more carefree days with Blaine's bright eyes and his joyful laughter.

He would be an adult, he would think and plan and decide then. But not yet.

* * *

On Friday afternoon Blaine moved back home. It didn't even take the whole evening for Kurt to realize what the discomfort he felt building under his skin was. He paused over the stir-fry he was making, astonished, when he recognized it: he felt _lonely_.

He _liked_ living alone. He enjoyed the freedom of not having to take another person's needs and plans into account, of eating, sleeping and working whenever he felt like it. He was a lone wolf, as he always joked whenever anyone asked him about serious relationships.

Which didn't really mean anything, if he was honest.

True, he had a strong independent streak and the need to adjust to someone else's lifestyle or rhythm put him on edge. But there were so many things he loved about sharing space with a person he... cared about. The light, silly conversations while doing everyday things; brushing against each other in passing; the wordless smiles across the room just because; preparing and eating meals together. The warmth of another person close by, when he needed it; someone to care for, who cared back. Someone to remind him each and every day that he mattered; that he was needed.

The first twenty four hours after Blaine had left were full of reminders – words that fell into the silence of the apartment because Kurt had forgotten there was no one to talk to; two cups of coffee poured in his distraction; a _good morning_ smile towards an empty pillow. Every time, he caught himself with a sudden squeeze in his chest, shook his head and went on with his day. On Saturday afternoon, he finally gave up pretending. It was time to think about this mess. He curled in the window seat with a glass of wine, watching raindrops blurring the lights of the city, and let his mind go there at last.

Blaine was, without a doubt, important to him; someone Kurt sincerely cared about. Merely thinking the boy's name was enough to cause a warm wave of affection to run through his body, and not just because of the sexual experiences they'd shared.

But Blaine was also just a boy; not even eighteen yet, and the baby brother of Kurt's best friend. Both of these facts should be enough to ban even thinking about him _that way_ from Kurt's mind.

Well, he'd never been good at the _should_ game.

But the uncomfortable truth was that his relationship with Blaine, whatever he'd call it, had a potential to be a disaster. It wouldn't last, not with the distance and the age difference. He couldn't let himself get too invested. He'd had his heart broken too many times to let it happen again – and it _would_ happen. For Blaine, it was just a phase he'd outgrow soon enough, and Kurt would be left behind – which was fine, really. If he didn't let himself fall too deep.

And then, there was Cooper. Sebastian was right, secrets like this were nearly impossible to keep forever and even if it didn't come out before Blaine left, it would most likely slip out at some point, one way or another. But what did it change if they broke it off now? The relationship happened; it had _been _happening. The secret was already there.

What would it do to their friendship if (more like _when_) Coop learned about Kurt and Blaine? What would it do to Blaine if Kurt told him they were over? How bad would it all be for Kurt himself?

The last one was easy: definitely not good. No matter the outcome, he'd always be the one in the middle, and there was no way he'd come out of this unharmed. But he started this, and he'd take it like a man. He'd survive Blaine pulling away eventually; he'd endure Cooper's reaction when he found out about them.

What he couldn't do was break Blaine's heart.

Calmer now that he knew where he stood, Kurt drank the rest of his wine and stretched just as his phone blared, announcing an incoming call from Cooper.

* * *

Kurt should have known that accepting an invitation to have drinks at Cooper's was a bad idea tonight. All the thinking about his relationship with Blaine made his lips tingle at the memory of their kisses. He was acutely aware of the bruises blossoming on his shoulders where just yesterday Blaine gripped him hard while coming deep down his throat – pushed against the front door, all ready to leave. With the sounds of Blaine's delight still alive in Kurt's ears and the memory of his smooth skin so fresh on his fingertips, he shouldn't have gone anywhere near Cooper.

Really, what had he been thinking?

He was a good actor, and so was Blaine, but their bodies... well, they were still drugged stupid on endorphins. And sitting next to Blaine on the sofa – close, but not too close – felt good and natural and nice. Too nice, in fact. Over wine and chatting, with Blaine's smile so close and the world feeling all friendly and wonderful, Kurt let the lull of the evening get him into the feeling of false safety.

So when Cooper and Sebastian started talking financial crimes, a topic that quickly bored both him and Blaine, they tuned them out and focused on their own conversation – about Kurt's designs, and the new show the theater would be preparing soon, and ideas for improving Blaine's setlist. Blaine was joking about some suggestive songs he could put in there, and they were laughing. Blaine's cheeks were flushed from the wine, his pupils blown, and he was so freaking beautiful with a few loose curls escaping and tickling his smooth forehead, and Kurt didn't think. He reached out and carded his fingers through Blaine's hair, smoothing it back into place, and Blaine, clearly just as oblivious about where they were, pressed his cheek into Kurt's hand, his eyes closing in pleasure.

Sudden silence in the background was like explosion.

* * *

Cooper sounded merely confused at first, but as his brain was quickly connecting the pieces, shock and anger started to bleed in.

"Um, Kurt, what the hell was that? Blaine?" They were both silent, roughly shaken from their nice little world only to belatedly realize what happened. "What the fuck are you... Are you guys _sleeping_ together?"

Neither of them said anything, and it was answer enough. Their guilt was probably written all over their faces too, if the color rising rapidly in Cooper's cheeks was any indication. In a passing thought, Kurt wondered if this shade of red would look better if Cooper's t-shirt wasn't army green.

Coop seemed lost for words for a moment, but shook out of it soon enough, his voice coming out sharp and snappy, slightly hysterical.

"Blaine, go to your room."

"I'm not a _child_!" Blaine's voice trembled slightly, but he jutted his bottom lip out just-so, a stubborn teenager peeking through the mask of the composed young man.

"Go to your room, now!"

"_No_." Blaine was shaking. Kurt took his hand in a silent reminder that he wasn't alone, not this time.

That seemed to push Cooper even more. Hands fisted in his hair as if he was trying to pull it out in tufts, he faced Kurt now.

"How could you, Kurt? I trusted you! I don't care how many fuck toys you have, you can whore yourself out all you want, but this is my _brother_ for fuck's sake! And Blaine? You really thought it was a good idea?"

Blaine let out an indignant "Hey!", but Kurt squeezed his hand to shush him. He looked Cooper square in the eyes.

"Leave him out of this. You want to blame somebody, blame me." The calm was mostly fake, and Kurt was glad to see that his skills were still there despite the lack of practice.

"Of course I blame you!" Coop nearly spluttered. "Have you forgotten what it means to care? Is every man just a cheap fuck for you now?"

"No. Blaine, for one, isn't."

Cooper didn't look convinced.

"Oh _really_. So what is he, exactly? A lover? A fling?"

"Try a _boyfriend_."

Blaine inhaled sharply by his side and Kurt realized this was the first time he had named what was between them. He didn't have a chance to look at him, however, because the word only seemed to make Coop more furious. His voice was like ice.

"Riiiight. Kurt, it's one thing to seduce the kid, and quite another to lead him on."

"You think I'm leading him on?" Fine. Kurt could be cold too.

"I think you're playing with his heart and I won't let you do this to him."

Blaine's voice was back now, stronger than before as he protested. "Hey! Will anyone listen to _me_, maybe?"

Cooper wouldn't have it though. "Quiet, Blaine. I'll talk to you later."

"No. I'm right here. Talk to me now."

"Fine." Coop stared down at him. "You're grounded. You can go to the gym and to your performances, that's all. If you try to meet with Kurt behind my back, you're off to Ohio on the next plane."

Blaine's face went white. "You're not serious."

"I am _deadly_ serious. I'm your guardian while you're here, and you've seriously broken my trust. Now go to your room. Kurt is leaving."

So that was it. Cooper was too angry to reason with him now; there was nothing more that could be done tonight. Kurt turned to hug Blaine, pretending not to hear the way Coop hissed in anger. He kissed Blaine's temple and whispered in his ear. "He'll come to his senses. It'll be fine. Text me."

Then he got up and looked at his friend. "You're blowing this out of proportion, but I understand and I'm sorry. No, not for my relationship with Blaine – for the fact that I didn't tell you. But I guess you can see why I didn't. Call me when you're ready to talk sensibly, okay?"

Before turning to go, Kurt shot Sebastian a pleading glance, and was rewarded with a small nod. _I've got him_, it meant, and it was just what he hoped for. He knew Coop wouldn't hurt Blaine, but he was a little drunk and very angry, and it was a combination that always made him prone to saying vicious things that cut deep and cruel, even if he never really meant them. Seb's level-headed influence would keep him in check.

The gravity of their situation hit Kurt on his way home, when the rest of the adrenaline rush left him. What if they never recovered from this? What if Cooper stood by his decision and sent Blaine home? What if –

No, no use worrying about it now, unless he wanted to drive himself crazy. He'd just text Blaine and hope for the best.

* * *

As soon as the door closed behind Kurt, Blaine jumped from the sofa. His face was screwed up in anger and his eyes tear-filled as he glared at Cooper.

"You don't even care that I love him, do you?"

Cooper spluttered. "You don't _love_ him! What do you even know about love? You're just a kid!"

Blaine marched to his room and slammed the door, yelling "Fuck you! You're just like father!". Before Cooper could yell back something suitably cutting – because _that was hitting below the belt, mister!_ – he heard a deep sigh behind his back and turned, surprised. He'd completely forgotten that Sebastian was still there, sitting calmly in an armchair, playing with his tumbler of Scotch.

"He's not, though, you know." He said conversationally, and Cooper shook his head, losing his momentum.

"What?"

"He's not a kid anymore. You may see him like one, but he's almost eighteen. That's not childhood. It's only natural for him to fall in love and have sex."

Cooper bristled. "Not with older guys!"

Sebastian shrugged. "Older, younger... what's the difference? If he wants to go out and have sex, he will. Don't you think it's better than if he went to a random bar and hooked up, like plenty of people his age? Younger, even?"

"But _Kurt_ –" God, even Kurt's _name_ tasted bitter on his tongue now. How _could_ he?

Seb didn't seem to share his sentiment.

"Kurt's a good guy, Cooper. You can't say you don't know that. Sure, he's had his share of men, but he's _always_ careful. I'd say if Blaine wanted to try sex, Kurt was one of the safest choices."

Great. All of his friends were dicks.

"Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not. I'm just saying that it already happened, you can't change that. You can only deal with it, one way or another. And personally, I'd say the way you've chosen is one of the worst. You'll only alienate them, and then you'll regret it. You know how you get, all marshmallowy after exploding all over people."

Cooper gritted his teeth. "Not this time."

"Uh-huh. Give it a day."

Cooper shook his head defiantly, but deep down, he knew Seb was right. His anger always burnt fast, intense, but short. More often than not, he ended up apologizing for things he said or did in a rage. He'd even had to pay for a few destroyed possessions (and one window) when he was younger. He sat down on the edge of the sofa now, suddenly tired.

"I just don't want him to get hurt..."

Sebastian hummed, understanding. "But he will, time and again. There's always hurt, that's part of growing up. It hurts many times before you get it right, you know that. You can't protect him from this. Let him make his choices, even if they're mistakes."

They sat in silence for a while, until Cooper hazarded a guess.

"You knew about them, didn't you?"

"Just for a few days."

It should make him mad at Seb, too, but he had no energy left.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not your mole, Coop. But let me tell you something: Kurt really does care. I know how he acts with a hookup, and that's not what this is. I'm not saying they're gonna marry and have babies, but he wouldn't hurt your brother. He cares about him too much."

Another long moment of silence followed, and all Cooper wanted now was sleep. His head hurt.

"Okay, go away. I've had enough."

Sebastian sipped his whiskey. He didn't look like he was going to move anytime soon.

"Feel free to go to bed. I'll just sit here and enjoy this fine liquor before I go. Don't worry, I'll let myself out."

Really, _why_ did he insist to be friends with such dicks?

Cooper shook his head, exhausted, and slumped to his bedroom. He'd have to think about what it said about him. Just, tomorrow. Yes. Definitely tomorrow.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **_There are two songs in this story that I really, really recommend you listen to, even if you ignored the ones earlier. The first of them is in this chapter. You've heard it on Glee, but this version makes all the difference :)_

* * *

**CHAPTER 15**

After the whole ordeal of that Saturday evening, Blaine felt many things. Shaken. Terrified of losing Kurt if they weren't allowed to see each other, or if Cooper decided he wouldn't deal with the burden he was anymore. Furious at himself for letting himself believe that his brother would accept him no matter what, and for not finding a way to tell him earlier, somehow.

But at the same time, he felt kind of... happy.

Kurt called him his _boyfriend_. Kurt _defended_ him; said he wouldn't apologize for loving him.

Well, okay, he didn't use the actual word, but he had fought for him, for _them_; and he had stayed there, strong and sure, holding Blaine's hand, risking the friendship that was so important to him. All for Blaine.

It had to be love, right?

Still, when he got a text barely fifteen minutes after Kurt had left, Blaine had a strong sense of _déjà vu_ that made his blood run cold. This was it. This was Kurt telling him that he was sorry, that Blaine wasn't worth the trouble after all, right? He looked at the phone lying on his desk for a full five minutes before he dared to reach for it and read the text, only to find out it was nothing of the kind. Kurt was just asking if everything was alright, if Cooper had calmed down. How Blaine felt.

After Blaine answered that he was fine, that he would be okay – he realized he was more than that. He was _fantastic_, in spite of everything. He felt safe and cared for.

The next few days were long, tense and lonely. Even his Sunday performance at the _Hippo_ was moved for another day because of some local celebrity playing that night. But it was okay, Blaine had a ton of books waiting on his Kindle, and while he couldn't go see Kurt, they were texting all the time.

It wasn't like he hadn't known loneliness before, and staying in his room to avoid other family members was nothing new, either. He just hoped the situation would get resolved before his stay in New York came to an end.

* * *

Kurt sewed.

Ever since coming home that Saturday night, he either sewed or texted, only taking the barest minimum of time to sleep. Not enough to dream, though, because his mind kept coming up with pictures and fantasies that were too much if he couldn't touch and hold Blaine afterwards.

He thought he might be going a little crazy; then he refused to think. So he sewed.

Soon, all the samples he'd planned for his private designs were ready – work he'd expected to take at least a week done in just over two days – and damn, did they look good.

On Tuesday, in a burst of boldness that might have come from exhaustion, he e-mailed a presentation of the collection to a fashion house he'd always dreamt of working for. He immediately felt stupid for doing so – it was like shooting for the moon – but it was done. Promptly forcing himself not to freak out about it, he went to prepare the perfect outfit instead. It was time to go to the theater and start planning costumes for the new play. And later, it was Blaine's performance night at the _Hippo_. Cooper could say whatever he wanted, but Kurt would be there, even if they didn't get to talk.

* * *

It took Cooper three days to get to the point of apologizing.

Truth be told, he didn't _need_ three days. He didn't even need one. Mere hours after his explosion – after he'd heard the front door click quietly shut behind Sebastian; after the incessant buzzing of incoming texts in Blaine's room had given way to soft, sleepy snuffling – Cooper was lying in bed, still awake. Blaine's angry words were running through his head, his face burning with the hard truth they carried. Yes, he'd reacted just like their father would – judging, forbidding, without a pause to listen. It was something he'd always promised himself he wouldn't do, because he knew all too well how much it hurt. And yet – years of programming were still there, ready to kick in.

He felt too ashamed to talk to his brother the next day, so he didn't. It was easy enough, considering how Blaine avoided him all day, but the only thing it got him was another night of too little sleep and too much thinking. Lying in the unforgiving darkness, Cooper recalled the soft lilt of Kurt's voice when he'd said _boyfriend_, and the bright joy blossoming on Blaine's face when he'd heard it. He remembered Kurt's fierce defense of Blaine. He thought long and hard about his best friend and his little brother; how similar they were, how much good they could give each other. How lonely Kurt was and how desperately Blaine needed true, unwavering acceptance, this all-encompassing care that Kurt was more than capable of providing.

And Blaine _was_ almost eighteen, for fuck's sake. At eighteen, Cooper had already been sexually active for two years, and with no less than three girlfriends. Or was it four? Sure, none of them had been nearing thirty, but did that make it any better? Considering some of the choices they'd made, Cooper had to admit that Kurt was definitely not the worst option. In fact, he was almost certainly better and safer for Blaine than many teenagers would have been. Plus, what _really_ counted – Blaine was in love with him. He'd said so himself, and Cooper felt he knew his brother well enough to be aware that he wouldn't say that lightly. He couldn't be sure if Kurt felt the same, but Seb was right – he clearly felt _something_.

On Monday evening, fed up with the insomnia and how distracted he'd been all day at work, Cooper tried to talk with Blaine. But he must have done it wrong because with one look at Cooper's face, his brother excused himself back to his room, claiming he needed to practice his tomorrow's set at the _Hippo_. Okay, so maybe starting with "So are we going to talk about you and Kurt?" was not the best intro.

Eventually, it was the thought of Blaine's performance night that gave Cooper an idea.

On Tuesday, he made sure to come home early, with takeout from Blaine's favorite Chinese place. They ate in silence, both pretending to watch whatever rerun was on TV, until Cooper took the remote and muted it. He spoke without giving Blaine a chance to walk out again.

"How long have you two been... together?"

Blaine shrugged, his eyes still on his plate.

"Depends on how you define being together. Our first official date was the premiere."

Cooper did quick math. So, over three weeks, if he was right. With how often the two of them had been seeing each other, Kurt would have gotten bored long ago if it was just sex. He always did.

"And... does he make you happy? Does he... take care of you? I mean, not just sexually?"

Blaine looked up at him with wide eyes, chopsticks frozen halfway to his mouth, dripping rice. He swallowed hurriedly and nodded.

"_Yes_. He does. And I'm _so_ happy with him, Coop, you wouldn't believe." His eyes were big and so earnest, no hesitation, nothing hidden.

Cooper nodded and went to put his empty plate in the sink. They didn't speak about it anymore before going to the bar, though Blaine kept looking at him hopefully.

Kurt was already there with a glass of wine, his expression defiant, and Cooper just nodded _hello_ and sat opposite him as if nothing happened. A moment later, Sebastian arrived as if summoned. He could never resist good drama, and after Saturday night he must have been drawn here like a moth to the flame. The three of them didn't talk and it was proof of how solid their friendship was that even in these circumstances the silence didn't feel uncomfortable.

An hour into Blaine's set, Cooper got up quietly and went to the bar to find Tyler, the owner of the _Hippo_. He had no trouble getting permission for the plan he'd hatched. They discussed the details, Tyler wrote down the song title for the karaoke machine, and then it was only a matter of time.

At eleven, Blaine went off the stage and over to their table, sweaty and tired, but beaming happily like he always did after a performance. The only unoccupied chair was right next to Kurt, and Cooper could see the challenge in Kurt's eyes when he pulled it out for Blaine. Everyone seemed to expect Cooper to say something, but he just got up and moved towards the stage, hoping his silence wouldn't be read as hostile. When he looked at them, however, Kurt and Blaine were already huddled together, talking animatedly and glancing at him, unsure what was going on.

Cooper took the microphone from its stand and tapped it to see if it was on. He hadn't prepared any speech, choosing to go with his gut, so now he just looked straight towards the three people that he considered his closest family and spoke right from his heart.

"Please excuse me for taking over the stage for just a moment. I may not be as talented as tonight's amazing artist – who is my own little brother, may I add – but I have something that I need to say; a toast to three people that are very dear to me, and a song that is an apology. I hope I'll be able to sing even half as good as Blaine, but even if I don't, please believe that it's heartfelt."

[ This is the moment to go to YouTube and put "Halestorm Here's To Us" in the search window. Yes, it has to be the original version. Trust me. ]

He nodded towards Tyler, who nodded back, and the next instant music filled the air and Cooper was singing, fierce and open and sincere.

_We could just go home right now_

_Or maybe we could stick around_

_For just one more drink, oh yeah_

_Get another bottle out_

_Let's shoot the shit_

_Sit back down_

_For just one more drink, oh yeah_

_Here's to us, here's to love_

_All the times that we fucked up_

_Here's to you, fill the glass_

_Cause the last few days have kicked my ass_

_So let's give 'em hell, wish everybody well_

_Here's to us_

_Here's to us_

The song went on, and all along, Cooper looked directly at his table, hoping they understood. And they did, he could see it in Blaine's teary eyes and Kurt's crooked smile as he nodded and took his boyfriend's hand. Halfway through the song, Tyler made a surprise appearance, carrying a tray with drinks for them – _On the house_, Cooper could see him say, and the three toasted towards the stage, Blaine clutching Kurt's free hand tightly.

The moment Cooper returned to the table, Blaine and Kurt were on him immediately and for a moment there were only hugs and chaotic words and Blaine's overwhelmed sniffles. When they finally sat back down and people stopped staring – not that they were staring too much, it was New York, after all, people were used to weirder shit happening – Cooper put on a stern face and pointed towards the couple seated opposite him.

"Okay, obligatory older brother talk, kids. Kurt: if you hurt him, I'm gonna kick your ass, understood?" Kurt nodded, his expression solemn like a promise, and Cooper looked at Blaine in turn. "Bee. You can sleep at Kurt's every now and then if you two want, but let's not make it a habit, okay? And _please_ don't make me think about what you're doing there."

"Deal."

"Good. Now, I need a drink."

* * *

By the time they left _The Tipsy Hippo_ an hour later, the worst of the shock caused by the turn of events had worn off, but Blaine was still dazed and not quite able to believe that _yes_, Cooper had basically given them his blessing. Kurt opening the bar door for him and taking Blaine's hand, simple as that, with his brother standing right next to them, took Blaine's breath away for a second. They could do this now. No more hiding. No more pretending they were nothing more than friends.

Sebastian took a cab home while the three of them walked in silence, the city hushed around them, and in front of of Kurt's apartment building, Cooper gave Blaine one more shock of the night.

Instead of turning away to give the two of them a bit of privacy for a goodnight kiss, he sighed and shook his head.

"Let's pretend that I'm actually an awesome brother and not just tired of you tapping out text messages half the night. Go, you two. Scram. I know you want to. See you tomorrow night for dinner."

And just like that, Cooper turned and walked away, leaving the two of them alone and speechless.

* * *

"God I missed you. Why did I miss you so much after only three days?" Kurt's lips were hard on his, feverish and insatiable. The question sounded like Kurt hadn't meant to let it out at all, so Blaine let it go, focused on showing how much _he_ missed Kurt.

It hadn't even taken them twenty minutes to shower – together, of course, they could only let go of each other long enough to undress in a hurry – and get to bed, naked and kissing, touching everywhere they could reach, which was, well, _everywhere_, but Blaine felt as if no matter what he did, he couldn't get close enough. After the three days of separation, the anxiety and the emotional rollercoaster of tonight, he needed Kurt more than ever. Closer, harder, in and around him.

"Fuck me. Kurt, _please_ fuck me."

Kurt's shaky inhalation and the way his eyes darkened instantly fed Blaine's hope for the few long seconds until he heard a breathless "Okay", and then there were more hands and lips and the hot pressure of bodies, and Kurt already had two fingers inside him when it hit Blaine like a freight train.

He must have stiffened because the delicious friction of Kurt's fingers stilled immediately and then his hand moved away to rest on Blaine's hip.

"What's wrong?"

Kurt's eyes were much more focused already, concerned, and Blaine managed to twist away from him and hide his face in a pillow before the hysterical giggle tore from his throat. He wanted to explain, he really did, but the volatile mixture of mortification and arousal still burning in his body made him pretty incoherent as he laughed and laughed, unable to stop, laughed until he cried and gasped for air. Finally, he let go of the pillow and looked back at Kurt, who was giving him a pretty impressive bitchface by then.

"I'm sorry, I just... I realized that Cooper is perfectly aware that we're here now, and that we're most likely having sex, and the thought of my _brother_ knowing and maybe thinking about it right now, and after tonight and the last few days and –"

Understanding dawned on Kurt's face and he actually blushed a little, reaching for the discarded comforter to cover them both as if merely thinking about Cooper was able to summon him here.

"Okay, talk about a mood killer."

"Yeah." Blaine wiped the residual tears from his eyes and sighed. "Damn, and I really want you. I'm sorry, forget I said anything, I bet I can get over it."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him.

"Now that you've planted the picture in my head? No way. No matter how hot you are and how much I missed you, I'm _not_ doing anything more than _this_ to you tonight."

He slid closer, close enough to put his head on Blaine's shoulder and his arm around his waist. A few seconds later, he added a leg between Blaine's, and Blaine sighed blissfully.

"Mm, I like this. Do I get a goodnight kiss?"

Kurt raised his head and planted a quick, soft peck on his cheek. Blaine chuckled. "Okay, I deserved that."

"So we just sleep?"

"We just sleep."

* * *

Blaine slept fitfully that night, his dreams dark and vaguely threatening so that he snapped awake time and again to make sure Kurt was really still beside him, warm and pressed into his back in the safe cocoon of the comforter. The weight of Kurt's body against his and the slow whisper of his breathing against his neck lulled Blaine back to sleep quickly every time, only to make him escape some unknown threats in his dreams again.

When the morning finally came, Blaine opened his eyes to find Kurt awake and watching him with a tender smile.

"Hi, you. You look tired." Kurt's fingers were tracing patterns on Blaine's chest, light and innocent, but the caress sent gentle tendrils of arousal down his belly anyway. He blinked, trying to get the sand from under his eyelids.

"Mm, bad dreams."

"Oh?" Kurt leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips. "Anything I can help you forget about?"

His touches were losing the pretense of innocence now, tracing lower and lower until his fingers danced light, barely-there just over Blaine's morning erection. He groaned and pressed upward into the cradle of Kurt's hand.

"Yes, please. Please do."

Kurt shifted his weight to rest most of it over Blaine, their hips aligning with some very welcome friction, and they both gasped. Kurt dropped his lips to Blaine's neck in a teasing, shiver-inducing graze of teeth. Blaine's hips shot up again, swift and demanding, and Kurt hummed into his skin and intertwined their fingers on both sides of Blaine's head before whispering into his ear in a hot puff of air.

"Would you mind if I gave you a hickey? We never could before, and suddenly I really, really want to."

Blaine was moaning his assentbefore Kurt even stopped talking, the idea to be marked as Kurt's, as belonging, so hot that he suddenly found himself ridiculously close to embarrassing himself. But Kurt was right with him there, it seemed. His lips more demanding now, sucking deeply on a point halfway down the side of Blaine's neck where he knew damn well Blaine was insanely sensitive, Kurt worked his hips down and against him. It was too dry and too fast, but neither of them seemed to mind. Kurt's muffled whimpers and Blaine's own desperate moans almost drowned the additional sound of Blaine's cellphone that suddenly came on with Cooper's very special ringtone.

Almost, but not quite. And the sound of Cooper's voice, singing "I'm Sexy and I Know It", was the last thing either of them wanted to hear in the bedroom.

Kurt rolled off him with a groan, Blaine's body trying to follow him, suddenly cold and left too close to the edge without a warning, but Kurt waved him away. "Answer the damn thing, Blaine. Fuck, I'm gonna have to do something very ungentlemanly to him."

Blaine very much wanted to call Coop out for being a cockblock when he answered, but he didn't quite dare. He did kind of depend on him while here, after all. Instead, he did his best not to sound as if he'd just been having sex and tried to finish the conversation as fast as possible. Kurt was watching him, sprawled out on his stomach, long lines of his body and the beautiful curve of his ass too hard to ignore.

"So? What did he want?" Kurt asked once Blaine ended the call and switched off his phone.

"We're going to some swimming pool with Coop and Sebastian tonight, and then for dinner somewhere."

Blaine reached to pull Kurt closer again. Pushing Coop out of his mind was somehow much easier today. _Huh_. Maybe his brain had developed immunity.

Apparently, Kurt's brain hadn't.

"Wait. What swimming pool? Why would we go swimming at night? Is he crazy?"

"Um, he said something about Sebastian booking their company swimming pool for us? I didn't really listen. Come on, _Kuuuurt_."

But Kurt was already sitting up, all business.

"Sebastian, huh? I have a bad feeling about this. Why would he – _No_, Blaine, my dick developed an _off_ switch with Cooper's name on it. And – oh my god, your neck."

* * *

The hickey on Blaine's neck turned out to be pretty epic. Kurt kept glancing at it all day, his expression switching between guilty, aroused and even a little proud, and Blaine couldn't help but preen under his gaze. He chose to accompany Kurt as he went to the theater and even though Kurt couldn't be persuaded to finish what they'd started this morning (or, really, last night) in his workroom, it was okay, because they were together. Holding hands, smiling at each other, simply being close.

As they made a stop at a grocery store on their way back to the apartment, Kurt absorbed in the mundane process of shopping for basic necessities and Blaine just pushing the cart for him, he let himself imagine yet again that this was what their everyday life would look like in a year, maybe a bit more. When he'd come back to New York, for good this time.

For a fleeting moment he even considered asking Cooper to let him stay here now, change schools and simply not return to Ohio, but he discarded the idea quickly.

There were lots of practical reasons not to even attempt that. He'd have to get both Cooper and his parents to agree, which was probably impossible. He'd need to find a school that would even take him for one year only, not to mention would be as good as Dalton, so that it wouldn't affect his college chances too much. And he really doubted his parents would keep paying for a private school for him in this (theoretical) situation. Plus, the thought of being the new student again, starting from scratch, terrified him more than just a little, he had to admit.

But all of that was nothing compared to the main reason: it would be such a silly, teenage thing to do.

There was nothing mature about changing schools, cities, your whole life, basically – a year before graduating, against your own better judgment – when the only real reason was to be close to the person you loved. And no matter how choking the thought of going back to Ohio was, Blaine knew that Kurt wouldn't appreciate him taking that step, or even considering it.

Blaine would prove to Kurt and everyone else – himself included – that he might be just eighteen, but he was mature for his age. Responsible. Trustworthy.

So he just absorbed Kurt's closeness – his voice, his beauty, the steady hold of his hand – as much as he could now, and refused to think that in three weeks at most, he'd have to say goodbye. It was still in the future, so worrying about it would do nothing but rob the present moments of joy.

* * *

The swimming pool turned out to be pretty luxurious. Okay, who was he kidding? It was the classiest pool Blaine had ever seen, all marble and glass, located on a ground level of the modern office building where Sebastian worked. And the four of them had it all to themselves for two hours tonight, which Kurt joked was Sebastian's attempt at male bonding. In a sauna.

Yes, there was a sauna. And a jacuzzi.

There was also sparkly clean water and a diving board which Blaine immediately climbed. God, he missed swimming more than he thought. As he resurfaced after the dive – the water was _perfect_ – he found the other three still standing on the edge of the pool, watching him with amusement and, in one case, not-so-well-hidden interest.

Sebastian snorted. "Yup, such a kid."

Blaine would have felt offended, but just then Kurt jumped into the pool and the way he looked, cutting through water as he swam to the other end, made Blaine forget about everything else for a moment. And then he reminded himself that they were not alone, and their swimming trunks weren't exactly hiding much.

He was very busy swimming after that.

Okay, it had been a bad idea. A bad, _bad_ idea. Not staring at Blaine when he was _almost naked _and _right there_ was hard enough, but with the way the muscles of his back and arms were working under the smooth expanse of olive skin as he swam, it was nearly impossible. God, if only Kurt could get some privacy with his insanely hot boyfriend right now... Really, even just five minutes would be enough. Cooper's presence was the only thing that kept him in check, although the way Coop had rolled his eyes when he'd spotted the hickey on Blaine's neck was more exasperated than threatening.

Still, awkward.

And yet, when Blaine got out of the water an hour later, skin glistening and dripping wet, curls in soaked disarray, Kurt couldn't help it. He followed Blaine to the jacuzzi like a puppy. Fuck it, Cooper or not, he had to at least touch. Or steal a kiss. Or he'd explode.

It turned out Cooper paid them no attention whatsoever, busy swimming laps, and Kurt really wasn't sure how it had happened, but a moment later Blaine was sitting between his parted legs, back pressed comfortably into Kurt's chest, Kurt's hand stroking his stomach in lazy little circles while he was stealing chaste, chlorine-tasting kisses, and surely, this was what bliss felt like.

Until Sebastian joined them, that is. And of course Kurt should have expected it, but it didn't make it any less grating.

"So, lovebirds, how was last night? I heard Coop let you go play house? How nice of him. And yet, Blaine, I don't see you walking funny today, and I've been watching carefully, believe me. Kurt, I'm sure you can do better than that?"

Kurt felt Blaine stiffen against him. Right, he'd never quite gotten used to Sebastian's special kind of love. He tried to diffuse the tension.

"Really, Seb, you should go get laid if you're trying to live vicariously through us now. What's wrong, no hot interns this month?"

Sebastian smirked. "Oh, no, there are plenty, just not the right gender. You two, however..." He wiggled his eyebrows and Blaine actually pushed back into Kurt's embrace, as if trying to hide there. "So tell me, little Blaine, has Kurt told you about this little fantasy of his yet? The one with –"

A vicious splash of warm salty water, directed right at the smirking face, gave Kurt just enough time to extricate himself from under his boyfriend and pull Sebastian out the jacuzzi and towards the deep end of the pool. He wasn't even sorry for tipping him into the cool water before jumping in after him.

"Hey! What's gotten into you? Are you PMS-ing or something?"

Sebastian sounded honestly stunned, and Kurt splashed him again, for good measure. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Sebastian was all wide-eyed innocence, and Kurt rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn't rattle in his skull.

"You know what. Don't be a dick, you're making him uncomfortable."

Seb actually snorted. "Okay, first of all, you can't command me to change who I am. I thought you accepted me, Kurt. You're hurting my feelings here, man. And second – _please_, I'm being very subtle, haven't you noticed? I never even said anything in front of Coop. And come on, if your boy is old enough to be fucked, he's old enough to be teased about it."

Kurt made a face. He knew Sebastian wouldn't leave them in peace unless Kurt threw him a juicy bit, which, in this case, was far less juicy than his friend imagined, he was certain.

"What if he hasn't been? Fucked, I mean."

"What?!"

He couldn't have shocked Seb more if he told him they had managed sex while hanging from a ceiling fan. With a small smile, he made sure it was clear.

"We haven't gotten there yet. Not like that, so... Stop, okay?"

He left Sebastian with his mouth wide open. With a powerful kick off the wall, he swam back to where Blaine had just jumped into the water at the other end of the pool.

* * *

Sebastian left them alone after that, although he kept staring at Kurt like he'd never seen him before. Cooper behaved as if Kurt and Blaine had been dating forever and he'd known about it from the beginning. Apparently once he was fine with it, he was _really _fine with it. They ended up going to the sauna by themselves because Cooper said he hated the hot humidity and Sebastian refused to accompany "the lovebirds".

And if Kurt walked out of there a little unsteadily ten minutes later – well, no one seemed to notice, or at least cared to comment.

Yes, it's said to be risky to have sex in the sauna. But really, when your gorgeous, flushed, gleaming with sweat boyfriend begs you to let him blow you? You don't say no.

After all, what's life without a little risk?


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

On Friday Kurt came home from work to find Blaine there, curled up in the widow seat, looking out at the rain-soaked world with a phone by his ear. He was barely saying anything, mostly just humming acknowledgement at whoever was at the other end of the line. His face looked anxious and miserable when he looked over, and Kurt tensed, instinct to help and protect flaring. He wasn't going to eavesdrop, but the apartment wasn't that big and even from his bedroom, where he retreated to give Blaine some privacy and get changed into more comfortable clothes, he could hear the words a moment later.

"Yes, I know. Thank you, father, of course I appreciate it."

Blaine's voice sounded all wrong in a way Kurt hadn't heard it before, higher than usual and strained. Kurt pulled on a t-shirt, gave up on changing the pants and hurried back to the living room to find his boyfriend looking small and unhappy, curled tight on himself, with his chin resting on his bent knees.

He flashed Kurt a ghost of a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but wasn't, and then turned away to look out at the rain again.

Kurt hesitated in the doorway, unsure what to do. With an exception of Cooper and Sebastian, it's been a while since he'd been close enough to anybody to inquire about their problems, and his last boyfriend had hated when he did that. Still, the emotions radiating off Blaine were strong enough that_ he_ hurt through empathy. He approached cautiously, instinct pushing him to gather the boy in his arms and _protect_, but reason and experience advising to wait.

"Do you want to talk? Or... a hug?" There, it was open enough, right? Nothing forceful?

Blaine just shook his head, not looking at him. Okay, then.

"Well, I'm right here if you do." He moved to the kitchen counter and pulled out vegetables for tonight's dinner. Chopping and dicing was distracting enough and yet not too demanding of his preoccupied mind.

Halfway through cutting the second pepper he heard movement from the window seat and looked up to find Blaine watching his movements with heavy, liquid eyes. He didn't say anything though, so Kurt remained quiet, too. He was almost done with the salad by the time Blaine spoke, his voice tight and all wrong still.

"How does he always manage to reduce me to this within five minutes of conversation?"

Clearly, he didn't expect an answer – but it was something. Kurt slid the last of the green olives into the bowl, put it in the fridge and washed his hands. The rest of the preparations could wait.

He came closer to the window seat again and leaned against the wall by Blaine's feet.

"Your father?"

Blaine cleared his throat. "Yes. Here I am, happily waiting for you to come back, and then he calls and talks to me for a few minutes and I'm left like... _this_. And he didn't even say anything particularly bad."

An unspoken _this time_ hung in the air and Kurt felt his dislike of Mr. Anderson senior grow exponentially. He didn't say anything though. Blaine seemed to only need him to listen for now, his voice getting more bitter and harder as he spoke.

"Just his usual stuff. I mean, I know who I am, Kurt. I accept who I am. I'm far from perfect, but I'm not that terrible, either. I'm good at some things, and given time, I can be really good at a few others, and I have some likeable qualities, I think. I know what I want, I have passions and goals and dreams. And yet my own father always manages to turn me into a pitiful heap of nothing in a few sentences."

There were tears clearly audible in Blaine's voice now, even though they hadn't reached his eyes yet, and the surge to take care became overwhelming. Kurt's voice was firm and full of conviction as he spoke.

"Bee, you're about as far from either pitiful or nothing as I can imagine, I swear."

Blaine looked up at him at last, and those eyes were like knives through the heart, so huge and sad, brimming with tears already.

"I guess I know, rationally. But that's how I feel. He makes me doubt _everything_ about me. Even when he only calls to tell me he bought me a ticket back to Ohio – for the day after my birthday, by the way. Yay. One stupid conversation about a plane ticket and he manages to imply that I've escaped my problems here, that I don't take my education seriously, I'm ungrateful for everything they do for me and overall, I'm a weak, spoiled kid who should be taught how to be a man." He sighed and wiped at his eyes in an annoyed gesture. "Sorry, I shouldn't dump it on you. I normally don't talk about it, it's just... hard, sometimes."

Kurt put his hand on Blaine's where it lay on his knee.

"Hey, it's okay. You can talk to me about anything and everything, I promise." He intertwined their fingers and tugged at Blaine's hand a bit, struck with an idea. "Come on, let me help you feel better."

Blaine let out a small, wet laugh, but shook his head. "Sorry, I just... I don't feel much like sex right now."

"Who said anything about sex? Come on, trust me."

This time Blaine followed easily, sliding off the seat and taking the step into Kurt's waiting arms.

"I _do_ trust you, you know."

Kurt kissed him sweetly, just once. "Thank you," and led him to the bedroom. "Lay down, okay?"

Blaine did so without question, his expression still miserable, but a little curious now, too, and once he was sprawled in the middle of the bed, Kurt climbed up to sit cross-legged beside him.

He already had a plan.

He was pretty sure no one had ever taken the time to tell Blaine exactly how wonderful he was. And Kurt could say plenty about it. So he would.

He took one of Blaine's hands and stroked it as he spoke.

"I may not have known you as long as your father obviously has, but I'm pretty sure I do know you _better_. So I want to tell you what I see when I look at you. I want you to listen, and not interrupt, either verbally or not. Okay?"

Blaine nodded, clearly intrigued now. Kurt leaned in and kissed those luscious lips once, then drew back and smiled.

"When I met you at the airport, my first thought was _beautiful_. _So_ beautiful, Bee. Your face, your eyes, the way you smile. It literally lights up the room, you know? You're so radiant when you're happy, it's infectious. And your body..."

Kurt let himself look Blaine over in a completely obvious way, enjoying the view. He ran his fingertips down Blaine's chest, delicious in a tight black tank top, before looking up again.

"You're gorgeous, Blaine. You're so damn hot, I had such a hard time trying not to ogle you when we first met."

Blaine's breath was picking up speed, his cheeks a little flushed, and Kurt kissed him once again before continuing.

"But that was only the beginning, because ever since then, I've had a chance to see how beautiful you are on the inside, too. It's not just a pretty facade, it's actually what you are, inside and out. Beautiful."

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt put a finger to it, silencing him. If Blaine thought that was all he had to say, he was _really_ mistaken. Kurt ran his fingertip around the lovely contour of Blaine's lips once they closed, finishing at the seam.

"I mean, you're so sweet. So gentle and caring. You really, honestly _care_, not just pretend to. You're this sweet boy who would carry heavy bags for an old lady or climb a tree to help a kitten. And I'm pretty sure by now that you're like that in every aspect of your life. True to your beliefs, moral, compassionate. Do you have any idea how rare that is, Bee? People who honestly care for others and not just their own gain; who dare to have their own beliefs and act on them? It's a minority, and I'm in awe that in spite of where you live and what you've had to endure because of it, you haven't lost it. Your parents should be so proud of you. I know _I_ am."

Blaine's mouth was open again, just slightly, but he wasn't trying to speak this time – he looked almost comically surprised, his eyes wide and wondering. Kurt smiled and kissed his forehead.

"And once I got to speak to you a little, I began to realize that you're not just gorgeous and sweet, you're actually smart, too. Which was... well, not a shock, just, _wow_. I expected a sulky teenager whose company I'd have to somehow endure while showing him enough of New York to fulfill my promise to Coop. What I found was a guy who I can really _talk _with, and I know, it sounds so normal, but it's not. We talk about everything, Bee, have you noticed? From music and fashion and history to sociopolitical issues, and everything in between, and god. I've never lost you in a conversation, and it's exhilarating, you have no idea. I mean, yes, that's one of the reasons I love Seb and Cooper, they're both freaking smart, but in general, when I try to talk with a random person outside of my small social circle, I get some weird looks pretty fast. Or blank stares. Don't even get me started on handsome guys. Or _nice_ guys. Nice, handsome men who challenge me intellectually? Exceptions. And that's you before you're _eighteen_, Blaine. I don't know what the hell your father thinks, but I'm absolutely certain that you're going to be great in whatever future you choose for yourself because you're smart and you know what you want, and when you put your mind to it, you're going to get there. No doubts whatsoever."

There were tears in Blaine's eyes at this point and he reached to pull Kurt into a hard, heated kiss, ignoring his calls of "No interrupting!" Kurt acquiesced for a moment, returning the kiss while Blaine's fingers tangled in his hair, but the second it started to get out of control he pulled away.

"Hands away, honey. Come on, hold on to the headboard if it keeps you from touching, but don't interrupt. I'm not finished talking."

Blaine pouted and stretched out, grabbing the rungs overhead obediently, and Kurt had to bite down on his own lip not to moan. The position only made the muscles in Blaine's arms more pronounced, and his top had ridden up a little, exposing a strip of skin, the hipbones jutting invitingly. Kurt took a steadying breath.

Hand tracing the firm contours of Blaine's arm, he continued.

"And you _are_ strong, Blaine, don't let anyone tell you otherwise, ever. Look, even with life giving you crap – your family, the bullying, the daily, casual homophobia of a small town – it hasn't broken you. And I know how hard it is, to power through stuff like this, and I _know_ how strong it makes you – unless it breaks you, of course. Which it didn't, and I'm sure it won't. It's all built you up, toughened you and it's such a stunning contrast when I realize that you're so strong, and yet still sweet and caring inside."

He paused to smile mischievously and kiss the sweet spot just under Blaine's jaw.

"Not to mention your physical strength. The way your muscles shift when you play the guitar or, _god_, when you swim. I want to see you box one day, preferably in a private location because I know I won't be able to keep my hands to myself. And when you took all those grocery bags from me the other day and _ran_ up the stairs with them as if they weighed nothing, I admit I might have had a breathtaking vision of you fucking me against the wall –"

In a flash, Kurt found himself rolled over and pressed to the bed, Blaine devouring his lips and grinding his hips down. He whimpered, taken by surprise, and it took nearly inhuman amounts of self-control to roll them over and pull away, holding Blaine's wrists pinned to the bed.

"Do I need to handcuff you to let me finish talking?" he teased.

There was a small shift in the air, a tiny gasp and a sudden darkening of Blaine's eyes, and then Kurt _remembered_. His eyebrows shot up.

"Oh my god, you _do_ want me to cuff you." His voice was full of awe, the pants that he hadn't had time to change after work _way_ too tight for that. Blaine blinked, swallowed.

He nodded, barely perceptively.

Kurt scrambled off the bed to pull out a small wooden box hidden beneath it. He hadn't used most of the items there in ages, but he easily found what he was looking for. On a whim, he added one more thing to the cuffs, and returned to the bed.

Blaine was waiting patiently, looking a little shell-shocked, but the way his cock was now straining against the confines of his jeans left no doubts that it was not a bad kind of shock. Kurt straddled his middle, taking care not to brush against him or it might be the end of any self-control, shaky as it already was.

He took one of the cuffs and fastened it around Blaine's wrist, careful not to tighten it too much, and Blaine moaned at the sensation. Kurt clipped the silver chain to the headboard and shifted to do the second hand, too.

He'd bought the cuffs years ago, while he'd been in a six-months-long relationship with an adventurous bisexual who'd taught him everything he knew about various kinks (and then cheated on him with a woman). They were about as far from classic metal handcuffs as possible – a pair of black, soft leather cuffs with a 10-inch silver chain each, they could be used separately or fastened together. They were comfortable, versatile and didn't rub the wrists the way fabric did, leaving no marks. Plus, they were pretty, which was essential for Kurt.

He looked his work over once he was done. Oh yes, it was a wonderful picture. His gorgeous boyfriend, flushed and disheveled, the black and silver contrasting beautifully with the tan skin... Perfection.

He moved off the bed again; there was one thing that had to be done before they could proceed. There was no way he could stay in these pants; they were not designed for sexual situations. Pushing the tight jeans down, he sighed in relief and returned to the bed, only the black v-neck and light blue boxer briefs on. Blaine pulled on the restraints and groaned.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

Kurt took his time running his palms over the definition of Blaine's stomach before he spoke again.

"Where was I? Oh, your strength. So, believe me – Blaine? Are you listening to me?"

He wasn't, eyes trained on the bulge in Kurt's underwear. Oh, okay, so a tiny wet spot might have appeared there, his cock a little overly eager, but really, he was saying important stuff here. Kurt took the long strip of black crushed velvet he'd pulled out of the box earlier and moved up the bed.

"I think I might just have to cover your eyes so that you can focus on my words, hm?" He murmured, and Blaine moaned, straining to try and mouth on Kurt's cock which was just inches too far for him to reach. "Blaine?"

"Yes, _yes_ you can blindfold me; you can do anything you want to me, please. Just... I'm not sure I'm capable of actually understanding anything you may say now, my brain is _so_ not interested in words."

Kurt brushed the strip of soft fabric over Blaine's eyes before tying it, not too tight, but enough to block out any light. He settled back on his heels then, one hand tracing random patterns over Blaine's chest and stomach, pushing the top further up, enjoying the way the muscles trembled under his fingertips.

"Oh, it's okay, I wasn't going to say anything too complicated. Just that I adore what a generous, talented lover you are, so good with your hands and your lips. Which isn't really that much of a surprise, considering you do practice a lot... I mean, playing and singing, of course. And –" Kurt let his hand wander down over the straining fabric of Blaine's jeans and gasped in an exaggerated manner. "Oh, but you must be uncomfortable. Here, can I help you with these pants?"

"God yes, please." Blaine all but groaned and then whined when Kurt _accidentally _brushed his hand over Blaine's length while opening the zipper. Kurt did his best to sound apologetic even though he _really_ wasn't.

"I'm sorry, you said no sex today. I'll be good. Let me just finish talking and I'll uncuff you, and we can cuddle." Kurt was in full-on tease mode now, and loving it.

"No! Please, Kurt, please please _please_, I think –"

"Yes?" He shouldn't have so much fun; his goal was to comfort Blaine, after all. But he couldn't help himself.

"I think I really need the sex now. To, you know, make sure I won't forget what you said?" Oh, so Blaine was in on the game. Thank _god. _Kurt smirked.

"Oh _really_?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, if you think you are better now..."

"I am, Kurt, _please_." He seemed to be, too, Kurt was glad to notice. He turned down the teasing for a moment to make sure.

"Should I remove the blindfold and cuffs?"

"No, I really really want them on. If I can?"

And oh, Kurt was all too happy to oblige.

"Yes, you can." It was whispered against the warm skin of Blaine's hipbone, just over the waistband of his briefs, and he whimpered. Kurt got off the bed once more.

"You know, I think I need to take those off." He made a show of removing the last two articles of his clothing, letting them brush and whisper against his skin so that Blaine could hear. Then he climbed back on the bed and lay by his boyfriend's side, pressing against him and diving in for a kiss. "Hmm, I'll just use the fact that you're quite immobile now to show you how much I love your body. To, you know, reiterate the message."

Kurt loved teasing. He loved having a lot of time and an eager partner to prolong the play, control the situation. It gave him a thrill beyond anything else and after a few years of having no opportunity for this kind of fun – one-night stands rarely meant more than just easy, uncomplicated sex – he was ecstatic to be able to share it with Blaine who, it turned out, loved it too.

Kurt took his sweet time kissing and licking every uncovered inch of Blaine's skin, sucking little hickeys in a few well-hidden places. He let his hands roam everywhere, alternating from feather light to kneading to scraping his fingernails in long, swiping lines. He waited until Blaine was a babbling, whimpering mess, arching against the pillows and begging to come before he even removed his briefs – careful not to brush it over the swollen head of Blaine's cock. When he leaned over him, pinning his hips to the bed with strong hands, and simply breathed warm, moist puffs of air, his lips barely an inch over where Blaine wanted them, his boyfriend thrashed against the restraints so hard the bed rattled.

Yes, he _was_ strong.

Kurt knew he could probably make Blaine come with a single swipe of his tongue over the head of his cock at this point. And he was so close himself, having stopped so many times already, that he would most likely follow just from the view. But he really, _really_ wanted something else tonight.

Pulling away, he tried to sound light and conversational.

"Okay, I'm thirsty. I think I'll go drink some water. Do you want something?"

Blaine wanted to kill him, judging by the string of half-coherent words that flew from his mouth. Or maybe just pin him to the wall and fuck him. It was hard to say.

Shit. No thinking about _that_ when he was trying to cool off.

Before leaving the room, Kurt took off Blaine's blindfold and kissed him swiftly. "I'll be right back."

"_Kurrrrrrrrt_!"

He spent exactly three minutes in the kitchen, sipping cold water and staring at the clock. It felt like an eternity.

When he entered the bedroom again, Blaine growled at him.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

Kurt made sure to sound offended.

"Of _course_ not. I'll release you immediately if you want. In fact, I wanted to release you anyway, and then ask you to turn over and –"

"Fuck me?" Hopeful. Desperate.

Kurt bit his lip. That was an option too, but no. It would be over too fast, and he wanted Blaine's first time to be more memorable.

"Not this time. But something new. I think you might like it. I know I do."

* * *

Blaine _loved_ it.

Kurt's weight over him, anchoring him and pressing him into the bed, was like permission to let go, and he really needed that tonight.

Kurt's cock, long and thick, took Blaine's breath away when it first slid, hot and slippery with the lube, along the crack of his ass. When it brushed over his rim, he thought he'd explode.

He didn't. Not yet. Kurt was slow and careful, letting both of them enjoy the friction, the building pressure of want, need, growing and overwhelming, before he sped up, clearly unable to hold on any longer.

Held between Kurt's strong body and the soft cotton of his sheets, feeling safe and loved and so wanted, Blaine came harder than he'd ever had, his hoarse cry echoing off the walls.

Before he slipped into the sweet abyss of sleep, he whispered one last sentence, just the simplest thing, in case Kurt didn't know. He had to know.

"_I love you_."


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

The next few days brought changes in Kurt's routine that he wasn't quite ready for, even though he'd known they were coming for a long time. This weekend marked the beginning of work on the new show they were preparing, and while for Kurt it mostly meant costume drafting and brainstorming, it all involved other people and meant he had to spend long hours at the theater every single day.

Not for the first time, he realized that he really, _really_ hated the fact that he wasn't a completely independent designer. Sure, he worked on a relatively free schedule, but there was a price: at times like this, before every new show, there were weeks when he would work every day, including weekends. And this time, he was surprised to realize how much he resented the actors and directors for being such free spirits – because really, would it hurt them to be on time sometimes, so that he could finally go home and not cancel the dinner date with his boyfriend for the third day in a row?

The boyfriend he only had ten days left with before they'd be separated by too many miles to count?

They'd taken to spending every free moment together and Cooper no longer even said anything when Blaine stayed overnight at Kurt's. But it was too little, never enough, and when Kurt had to leave the warm bed where his gorgeous boyfriend was sprawled, naked, loose and pliant, a faint tremor of release still dancing under his skin; when a coffee-tasting kiss ended too soon because _how did it get so late_, he felt like time was running away from him and he could do nothing to keep those moments from slipping between his fingers.

He hated this feeling.

By Tuesday, Blaine started to accompany Kurt on his way to work. They'd kiss goodbye a block from the theater and Blaine would go to the gym. Even this additional half hour together was precious at this point.

* * *

Thursday promised to be crazy from the get-go.

At eight Kurt was awakened by a phone call from the frantic director and summoned to the theater _immediately_. They'd just gotten news that the lead actress in their current show collapsed this morning and was rushed to surgery with internal bleeding due to ectopic pregnancy. They had an understudy, of course, but the girl was new, she hadn't had a chance to perform with them yet and, of course, the costumes needed quite a lot of alterations for her to fit in them by the evening. Kurt was forced to get up and rush through his morning routine, which meant the results were far from satisfactory for his standards. Of course, as it usually was on those days, nothing else went well. His hair decided to misbehave, no matter how convincing Kurt was with the products, he cut himself while shaving and he had no time to grab any breakfast. At least he had good, extra-strong coffee, thanks to Blaine heading to the kitchen the second he heard Kurt needed to get up and go.

They ended up going together anyway, since Blaine refused to stay and get some more sleep, and Kurt was secretly happy about it. Who knew how long he'd have to stay at work today? He had two meetings planned for the afternoon, both about the new show, and with the addition of major last-minute costume changes, it promised to be a long day. They may not see each other until late this evening, and Blaine had promised Cooper he'd come home for the night.

Overall, Kurt's mood was far from good when they were riding the subway towards their destination, coffee cups clutched in their hands, standing close like sardines. At least he knew that Blaine didn't mind him rambling.

"I mean, I've told them more than once it would be safer to have an additional set of costumes for the understudy, just in case – I could tell on the first day she wouldn't fit into Karen's. She's bustier and curvier in general, and altering a dress like this is way more complicated than simply letting some seams out. But _no_. They're too cheap for that, and they were so certain it wouldn't be needed anyway since Karen's so serious about her roles, she's never had a day off, not once in three years. And now, surprise, it turns out that emergencies happen even to the best of us, and I have to save their asses, and – _fuck, what now_?"

Kurt's phone was ringing in his pocket, loud and annoying, and he rolled his eyes, doing some serious acrobatics to try and take it out without elbowing any of their fellow passengers. They were almost to their stop now and the crowd around them was pushing and moving, trying to get premium positions for the exit.

Kurt glanced at the screen. It showed an unknown number and he almost wished it was some fool trying to sell him something. He'd have an outlet for his annoyance then.

He answered just as the train rolled to a stop.

"Kurt Hummel," he announced curtly.

* * *

Blaine watched as Kurt answered the phone, feeling almost sorry for whoever was on the other end. Kurt was at his bitchiest this morning and even though Blaine himself was probably safe – Kurt never really snapped at him even when he was like this – the rest of the world should be scared. He wondered who it was, the unknown caller about to be verbally eviscerated, but what followed wasn't a typical Kurt Hummel cutting comment.

Kurt actually paled, his fingers tightening their hold on the phone and his body going completely still in the ever-moving mass of people. Immediately, Blaine felt anxiety crawl up his throat; something was wrong.

Kurt's voice was high and breathless when he spoke.

"Oh! Hello, sir. Yes, of course I remember." He was so focused on what he heard, his eyes going wide, that he didn't move even when the train stopped and people started to push them in their hurry to exit.

Embracing Kurt's waist, Blaine led him off the train and away to the less crowded end of the platform, narrowly avoiding being tripped by a feisty old lady armed with a pink floral umbrella that she wielded like a fencing saber. Kurt was still tense and uncooperative in his arms, listening intently, but when an angry-looking businessman collided with him full-force, he snapped out of it.

"Excuse me, I'm just getting off the train, do you mind if I call you back in five minutes?" He nodded, listening to the response, and smiled, making Blaine's pounding heart slow down at last. "Yes, of course. Five minutes."

It couldn't be that bad if Kurt smiled, right?

_Wrong._

The smile disappeared the second Kurt disconnected the call and was instantly substituted by full-fledged panic blossoming on Kurt's face. Blaine held him tighter.

"What's wrong?" Kurt just shook his head, looking like a deer in the highlights. "Kurt, you're scaring me, what happened?"

Kurt took a deep breath, then another, looking like he was going to hyperventilate, but then seemed to get himself together enough to speak.

"_La Nuit Designs_, remember them?"

Blaine nodded, frowning. "Like I wouldn't remember your favorite modern designer company."

"They called me." Kurt's face was completely white now and Blaine didn't understand. It was good news, right?

"Kurt, that's incredible, but... why?"

"I... I sent them an email with a presentation of my designs. It was a moment of insanity. I never thought they'd even look at it. But they did, and they liked it, and now they want me to meet with Julian, their head designer."

Blaine beamed and squeezed Kurt's hands. "Oh my god, that's _amazing_!"

But Kurt only shook his head furiously. "No, it's _not_! He's only in New York for a day and he wants to meet in two hours, that's the only window of free time he has. And today, of all days, I can't go back home to take the designs and the samples, or even get changed – _god_, I couldn't possibly meet him like this, even if I had anything to show him with me."

Kurt looked dashing as usual, but Blaine knew that jeans and a simple black turtleneck, no matter how well-fitted, wasn't what Kurt considered a fashion statement.

"_Fuck_, of course it had to be today, when I have literally no chance to make it happen. I should be used to it by now, life teasing me with things I want most and then snatching them away from me."

Blaine was alarmed to hear tears in Kurt's voice, some bitter kind of resignation that had never been there before. Kurt's shoulders slumped and he cleared his throat, trying to get himself under control. He let himself be held when Blaine gathered him into a tight embrace.

Something had to be done.

Blaine's brain worked frantically, and when Kurt pulled away a moment later, he already had a plan.

He wasn't sure he was as smart as Kurt gave him credit for, but one thing he knew for certain: he was good at thinking on his feet.

Kurt took a deep breath, straightening his back again, but the defeat in his eyes tore at Blaine's heart.

"Okay, I'm fine. I'm okay. I'll just call him back and tell him I can't meet today. With any luck, they may give me another chance or –"

Blaine took the phone away from Kurt's hand and pulled him to a nearby bench, his mind all calm now.

"No, you won't. Here's what we're going to do. You call back and set the meeting somewhere close to the theater."

Kurt shook his head. "But I don't –" Blaine silenced him with a squeeze of his hand.

"Shh. _Then_ you will go to work and do as much as you can so that you can get away later. In the meantime, I'll take a cab to your apartment and get your portfolio and the samples."

"But the drawings are all over the place, I've been working on them again and –"

"I'll put them in order and get the portfolio ready. I've watched you work on them, I've listened to you talk me through the process. I know them by heart, Kurt. I know how they should be set and ordered. Don't worry about it. I'll bring you a change of clothes, too, you'll just need to tell me what you want. I'll be back with time to spare, trust me. Now come on, make the call. Don't keep the man waiting."

"But..."

He could see Kurt was itching to listen but hesitated, with so much out of his control. It wasn't that Kurt didn't trust him, Blaine knew. It was that with some things, including his designs and outfits, he trusted no one but himself. Still, it was accepting Blaine's plan or losing the opportunity.

"Come on. I'm not going to let you pass up this chance without trying. Please trust me, Kurt."

It only took a few seconds, and he'd never seen Kurt's eyes so unguarded, with a spectrum of emotions there, including a whole lot of fear, but he did take the phone.

"Okay," he breathed out.

* * *

Once the meeting was set, Kurt went into what could only be called stage fright mode. He was pacing in front of the bench, trying to simultaneously plan an outfit and instruct Blaine on where the drawings and the sample clothes were, and how they should be set, his hands shaking and his eyes a little crazy. Blaine let him do that for about a minute before he realized it didn't help Kurt calm down at all. He stood up and put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, stopping him.

"Okay, breathe. You need to go, I can handle this. Your pictures are numbered and I know where you left them. I know where the portfolio is and how to pack the samples. I'll call you when I'm standing in front of your open closet so that you can tell me exactly what I should choose. I'll take a cab so everything will be safe. Now go. You have a costume emergency waiting. I'll call you in a half hour."

Kurt went.

* * *

Thanks to a bit of luck and a hefty tip for the cab driver, Blaine managed to get everything ready and back to Kurt in just under an hour and a half. There was still time for the portfolio and the samples to be checked (twice), for Kurt to change into the new outfit and obsess about his hair, and for Blaine to assure him precisely six times that he looked fantastic; classy yet original, and exactly what a successful fashion designer should look like. He even had time to offer a stress-relieving blowjob but, unsurprisingly, Kurt wasn't interested.

He walked Kurt to the coffeeshop five minutes ahead of time. With a single kiss and a whisper of "Remember, you are amazing", he sent him on the way that would lead him, Blaine was pretty sure, exactly where Kurt deserved to be: to the very top.

* * *

When Blaine's phone rang an hour later, Kurt's voice was so bright and happy, it brought a wide grin to his face.

"He _loved _them, Bee! Julian absolutely loved the designs and they're _taking_ them, and he wants _more_. He wants me to work for them, as a freelance designer for now, but he says my vision and ideas fit the company perfectly! So if this line goes well, I can expect a more steady job offer and... _Oh my god_ Blaine, my designs will be at _La Nuit_!" Kurt let out a small squeal of delight and Blaine beamed even more.

"I told you, you are amazing! God, I'm so proud of you. Are you back now?"

"Yup. At the theater, trying to stop bouncing so that I can get back to sewing, but it's proving impossible."

"Okay, before you do, open the door."

There was a gasp in the receiver and then the door was pulled open. Kurt's face was the happiest Blaine had ever seen it and he only managed to hand him the bouquet, a dozen red and yellow roses, before he was pulled into a one-armed hug, Kurt laughing and sniffling into his neck at the same time.

"I couldn't have done it without you. I could never... just, thank you, Bee. Thank you _so much_."


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

Blaine didn't quite know how he'd found himself in his current situation.

Well okay, technically, it wasn't true. Every separate step leading to where he was now made perfect sense. It was the end result that didn't.

Last night, after Kurt had returned from the theater, still elated but tired, there wasn't much time for celebration. Even if Blaine had managed to buy champagne, which he hadn't, the forty minutes they had together before he had to go meet Cooper for dinner was far from enough.

So early this morning, as soon as Coop left for work, Blaine got dressed and ran out the door. Minutes later, he was letting himself into Kurt's apartment and Kurt's bedroom, undressing quietly and sliding into the bed next to his naked, gorgeous boyfriend.

Kurt opened one sleepy eye, hummed contentedly and burrowed closer. His sleep-heated skin felt like heaven on Blaine's, cool with the early morning run. Within seconds, Kurt's breathing evened out again and Blaine was perfectly happy to close his eyes and catch some more sleep too, tangled up in his favorite person in the whole wide world.

A few hours later, he found himself awake first, and he lay there quietly, smiling, until the change in Kurt's breathing told him he was waking up. He cuddled closer into his boyfriend's embrace then, starting a trail of kisses up the side of Kurt's neck to his ear.

"Good morning, _La Nuit_'s rising star."

There was a hitch in Kurt's breathing, as if he just remembered the events of yesterday, and then happy, sleep-rough laughter.

"Mm, _someone_ wants to get laid." Kurt rolled to his side and pressed closer into Blaine's eager body. "Let me go pee and brush my teeth, and then... we could do just that?"

With a teasing kiss, Kurt jumped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Blaine stunned and aroused, wondering if he understood correctly.

He did.

And everything was perfect – the right time and circumstances, the want thrumming in Blaine's body, Kurt's hands trembling as he took forever to prepare him, and then some more to be sure. There was too much lube and a box of condoms open on the pillow, and Kurt's voice breaking slightly while asking him to turn over. And then there were Kurt's fingers again, stretching further, making sure. Pausing for a heartbeat, two, five. Too many.

Retreating.

"Wait, I want to try one more thing first." The words sounded light, slightly teasing maybe, and if Blaine thought it was strange, he ignored it, lost too deep in the want and excitement.

_One more thing_ turned out to be an anal plug, elongated and curved, and, at its widest point, quite a bit thicker than anything Blaine had had inside him before, while still not as big as Kurt himself. The sensation of being stretched even further, opened and filled like this, left him raw and helpless, whimpering with the need for the toy to move, for Kurt to get there instead and just _take him already_.

Which was why Blaine's current circumstances made no sense.

He wasn't sprawled on Kurt's bed, being filled and fucked and taken apart with the perfection of Kurt's cock.

He was sitting – okay, more like hovering an inch over the chair – in a nearby coffee shop, afraid to move with the plug still deep inside his ass, rubbing in all the right spots (_so very wrong in this situation_) with the tiniest movement. It kept him constantly on the edge. Kurt was sitting opposite him, his eyes wide, untouched coffee in front of him.

How had he managed to convince Blaine to get up, get dressed and _go for coffee_ of all things? That was what Blaine didn't understand.

Very carefully, he moved to try and get some weight off his elbows resting on the table, and onto the chair, and a moan ripped from his throat, unstoppable. The plug was curved _right there_ and there was no way in hell Blaine could actually sit down without getting a very intense, way too loud and _very_ public orgasm. The mere thought made his ass clench around the toy, pushing it further in, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying out.

His breath coming in shallow little pants, his vision blurry, he managed to whisper. "Kurt _please_. I'm begging you, can we go now? I need, _god... Kurt._"

And Kurt must have _finally _understood his desperation because not only did he get up and grab Blaine's hand, leaving their coffee to pull him towards the exit (Blaine trying very hard to walk like he wasn't being fucked with every step), but he actually led him to the narrow, cluttered alley behind the shop where some dumpsters hid them from view. Thank god. Blaine didn't think he could make it another step without moaning.

Then it was Kurt's body pushing him into a wall, both hands sliding to Blaine's ass to press him closer and Blaine _did_ moan then, his face hidden in Kurt's neck. Between Kurt's kneading hands moving the toy and the hard press of his thigh, the world was spiraling, the coil tightening too fast to do anything but fall apart, hoping to be caught in spite of the circumstances or the place or Kurt's uncharacteristic silence.

* * *

It was weird afterwards, awkward in a way it had never been between them. Kurt led him the short way back to his apartment, wincing every time Blaine let out a hiss or bit his lip, the rub of the plug nearly unbearable now that the oversensitivity set in, and the wet discomfort in his pants making it worse. Once inside – and Blaine had never been so grateful for a functioning elevator – Kurt spoke at last, sounding so apologetic Blaine would hug him if he didn't have other, more pressing matters to take care of.

"God, I'm sorry, Blaine. It was such a stupid idea, I'm sorry, are you okay? Should I –" he made a somewhat helpless, vague gesture towards Blaine's pants and Blaine quickly shook his head. He needed a moment alone.

"I'm fine, I'm okay. I'll just go shower."

Kurt nodded, looking like he was about to cry, and Blaine forced a small smile to try and comfort him. He really _was_ fine, he thought as he shut himself in the bathroom, got rid of the sticky clothes and stepped into the shower stall. Sore, as easing the plug gently out and touching his stretched rim proved, but essentially nothing bad had happened. So why did this feel so off?

The orgasm, though intense, had felt unsatisfactory somehow, as if something important was missing. Kurt's behavior was different, too, he realized, working the ginger-lemongrass body wash into a lather over his chest. Not all along, no. Starting... hm, around the time he decided on the plug? Probably, though Blaine couldn't be sure with the way his brain had been overloaded with want.

It almost felt like Kurt didn't want to fuck him though.

Blaine stilled, a trickle of shampoo suds finding its way to his eye, but he just rubbed at it absentmindedly. It couldn't be it, could it? Because minutes earlier Kurt had seemed just as desperate for it as Blaine was. Why would he change his mind?

Unless... did he decide it was not the right time after all? Did he want to do it some other day? But why? They didn't have that much time before Blaine's birthday and his –

_Oh_. His _birthday_. Was that it? Did Kurt decide, all of a sudden, to wait until then? The more Blaine thought about it, while rinsing the conditioner out of his hair and drying himself off, the more it seemed like the only logical explanation. Why such a sudden change of heart though? Why wouldn't Kurt just tell him?

He wanted to ask, he really did. But Kurt was so worried about him during the hour before he had to go to work, so apologetic and tender that Blaine didn't have the heart to discuss the topic further. He decided to stay and practice his set for the evening performance instead of going to the gym though, and by the time he had to go to the _Hippo_ that evening, Kurt was still at the theater. He'd called to tell Blaine that he had to work most of the night, some overdue project, so they wouldn't meet until tomorrow evening, after all. But he promised he had a treat for him then, a field trip of sorts.

By the time they met the next evening, Kurt was his usual sweet, caring self, if tired-looking after the extra work, and Blaine had basically accepted that he was getting sex as his birthday rite of passage. He'd even gotten to the point of laughing yesterday's experience off.

So he'd had his first less-than-awesome sexual act. It happened.

Everything was alright.

* * *

Having finally flopped on his bed this Friday evening, long after Blaine had gone to the _Hippo_,Kurt wondered why he hadn't realized sooner that it was not going to happen. He should have seen it, should have understood earlier. Instead, the knowledge had been creeping up on his mind slowly like a shadow.

Though his body must have known for quite some time already. How else could he explain all those delicious, perfect opportunities when both he and Blaine had ached, wanted; when his beautiful boy had basically begged to be fucked – and yet, somehow, they'd ended up trying something else yet again. Kurt kept getting distracted despite everything being right and in place for that one last step forward.

At first, it was so easy to explain. It should be perfect, as wonderful a first time as he could give Blaine, so it was obvious that Kurt waited for just the right moment when they wouldn't have to hurry or worry about the time.

Then suddenly they had all the time they wanted. A whole week of constant touching, of sleeping together, and it would be the most natural thing to... but no. Afterall, there were still so many things he wanted to show Blaine first, so many steps that they could enjoy.

Then it was Cooper's disapproval. Next – his blessing being so fresh that they both felt like walking on eggshells, suddenly being official.

The excuse that finally made Kurt admit to his avoidance came this morning, when he was all poised to push into Blaine's sweet, eager heat at last: he was simply too big and afraid of hurting him.

(Which made no sense for two reasons. First, while being well-endowed, Kurt had no monster in his pants. Second, he'd never worried about it with any other guy. Ever. Not to mention Blaine's enthusiasm towards all the toys they'd used made it more than obvious he could handle it.)

So he'd made a last-second dodge, a stupid, _idiotic_ decision that felt wrong as soon as he made it, and yet he pushed through with it. He'd taken what would have been _right_ and perfect, what Blaine really wanted, and gave him a cheap substitute instead, on a whim – or a bout of panic, really – without explaining it or even asking first. It was wrong on so many levels, and now Kurt really hoped Blaine would be generous enough to forget and forgive him. Because Kurt couldn't forgive himself.

And now, after a torturously long day at work, it was time to look at the giant pink elephant in Kurt's bedroom. And once approached, the merry animal didn't shy away from flashing the truth right at him in bold neon-bright letters and then trampling all over his heart as it walked out.

For the first time Kurt lied to Blaine then. Some would say that it wasn't even lying when he said that he needed time alone to do some important stuff that he should have dealt with earlier. Still, in his mind it was as bad as an outward lie.

But he really needed that time away from his kind, loving, compassionate boyfriend. If only to spend it in his bed, letting himself break apart before putting on stitches and strengthening his walls that had somehow gotten so thin in the previous weeks that they were barely there anymore.

And that could not be accepted.

So motivations were analyzed and understood, decisions were made, and the last week before Blaine's birthday was planned. Kurt would fill it to the brim with attractions, pleasures for both body and mind as they caught the sweet golden hours of the passing summer, trying not to speak or even think of the fact that so very soon Blaine would be going back to Ohio.

They had so little time left.

* * *

Technically, Blaine shouldn't be let in. But an assurance from Kurt that the kid was – and would stay – with them, reinforced by a little incentive that Sebastian slipped to the bouncer behind Kurt's back, granted him a pass, and now he was standing by the door, looking around with wide, curious eyes.

Well, for a first visit to a gay club, this was definitely a good one, Sebastian thought. Much classier than the small town gay hole he himself used to visit almost religiously back in high school. He shook his head to get rid of the bleak memory and put his arms around both Kurt and Blaine's waists to lead them to the tall, glass and steel bar.

When Kurt had called him that morning – an _actual_ morning, which was disturbing by itself – to ask if he would come with them tonight, Sebastian never hesitated. He would say _yes_ anyway, jumping at the chance to watch these two interact, now that he'd learned about Kurt's unprecedented abstinence. And with Kurt's voice betraying a rough night, in that all-too-familiar way that Sebastian had hoped he would never hear again, there was nothing that could keep him away.

Which didn't mean he was planning to act as a third wheel – oh no, it had been way too long since he'd had any decent fun of the _man on man_ variety. He'd just make sure that his incurable romantic of a friend hadn't gotten himself into trouble, first.

Or, he corrected after just a few minutes of watching Kurt in the club, how deep was the trouble that he _had_ gotten himself into.

It didn't take all that long. Sebastian spent a single hour by the bar, sipping drinks and watching the happy couple, analyzing the way they danced, talked, kissed; Blaine getting looser and more relaxed by the minute, Kurt almost too attentive and caring, but tense in that almost imperceptible way that no one but those who knew him extremely well understood.

Finally, Sebastian pushed away from the bar with a deep sigh, downed the rest of his drink and went to find himself some company. There was nothing he could do tonight, so he could just as well go enjoy himself.

The talk could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

On Sunday afternoon, Kurt was sitting in his kitchen alone, a pencil in his hand, a glass of whiskey standing by the other, trying to occupy his mind with sketching. Blaine was out spending some time with Cooper, since it was his last full Sunday in New York. A week from now, he would be back in Ohio.

Kurt's phone rang and he sighed, seeing Sebastian's name on the display. Of course. He'd known there was an interrogation coming. His friend's determined face last night left no doubts about it, but Kurt had hoped it wouldn't be quite so soon. He swiped the screen and answered.

"Hi, Seb."

"Are you alone?" Sebastian wasn't one to beat about the bush.

"Yes."

"I'll be there in a moment." There was no room for argument. Kurt pushed the half-finished drawing aside – it looked too much like Blaine in a fancy suit anyway – and got up to take out a second glass.

* * *

"Okay, talk to me." Sebastian commanded before his ass even touched the chair.

"About what?"

"Your sudden chastity. It's unlike you. Is your boy such a prude? Because he certainly doesn't seem to be, the way he looks at you like he wants to devour you."

Kurt fiddled with his glass. The fact he'd known the talk was coming didn't mean he was ready for it. "It's complicated."

"... or be devoured."

"Let it go, Seb."

No such luck, of course.

"So how come you haven't tapped that yet?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me. You'd be surprised how much I _can_ understand. I'm pretty smart, you see, I just hide it really well. It's my big secret, and now you're in on it. So spill. I can see there's something bothering you."

Kurt sighed. Maybe he should. There was no one else he could really talk to about it, and it had been killing him for the last two days.

"It's just... I can't."

"Surely you're not telling me you've gone soft, are you? Or has your dick gotten so blue it fell off?"

Ugh. Or maybe it _was _a bad idea. "Seb –"

"Okay, kidding aside. What's wrong?"

Kurt took a deep breath and a deeper drink of his whiskey. He put the empty glass down and stared at it. His friend waited patiently. Finally, Kurt shrugged.

"I guess... I think I'm afraid. Like if I do this, I'll get too close, grow attached. Fall too deep, again."

Sebastian nodded sagely.

"I hate to break it to you, but you already seem plenty attached. More attached that I've seen you in a long, long time. So what's this one simple step?"

"Yeah, but that's it – I _can't_ be attached, Seb. He'll go away, and that will be it. Long-distance never works, and he's so young. He may think it's gonna last, but with time, it will fade into nothing. He'll meet someone else, forget me. And it feels like taking this one last step will seal it. It's gonna be too much, too close, and I won't be able to –"

"To lie to yourself anymore?"

Kurt just shook his head and refilled his glass, words stuck in his throat. Seb sighed and pushed his own glass forward to be filled, too. His voice was soft and concerned when he spoke again.

"Oh, babe. You've already fallen, haven't you? You love that ridiculously adorable kid."

Kurt's hand trembled when he took the glass and drained it in one go. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

"Oh fuck, pretty. You're in trouble."

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts, but then Sebastian spoke again.

"So what, you're gonna break up with him before he goes? Because that would be a shitty move, Kurt. The way he looks at you –"

"No." The answer was immediate, no thinking needed. This had never been an option. "Of course not. I couldn't do this to him, break his heart."

"So you'll just let him break yours when the time comes." Sebastian sighed. "Damn, Kurt, how do you always do that? I mean, I'll be there with ice cream, alcohol and friendly make-outs when the time comes, of course, but –"

"But?"

"Just... take care of yourself, okay? I don't want to have to scrape you off a New York sidewalk one day. I really prefer you in one piece."

Kurt just nodded. They'd never talked about that one night back when, and they would continue not to. But they both knew: sometimes, love was too much.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

By next Saturday – his birthday and last day in New York – Blaine had all but forgotten that anything unsettling had happened. Kurt had decided that since they wouldn't have all weekend to celebrate properly, with the plane leaving Sunday morning, Blaine deserved a whole birthday week instead. The results were mindblowing. Blaine had never felt so loved and cherished in his whole life.

Starting Monday morning, there were flowers every day, from single red roses and while lilies, to a bouquet of sunflowers and red carnations delivered the only morning of the week he didn't stay overnight at Kurt's.

There were two Broadway shows. A romantic midnight walk through the city, holding hands, kissing on every street corner. A piano concert in Central Park at sunset. There was waking up to Kurt's smile nearly every morning and picking him up at the theater in the afternoons, to go to dinner or cook together, and falling asleep safe and happy in Kurt's arms. There were Kurt's words, always reminding Blaine that he was special and important.

There were gifts, too. A beautiful leather messenger bag for school. A box of fancy bowties, sewn by Kurt himself. A Moleskine notebook when Blaine admitted to keeping a journal. An adorable plush puppy whose eyes, Kurt said, reminded him of Blaine's. There was hinting at a more _personal_ present to come Saturday night, and Blaine pretended not to have any idea what it might be.

Cooper joined the early celebrations on Thursday morning, over breakfast, handing Blaine an envelope. Inside was a Visa card with Blaine's name on it.

"I want you to have it for emergencies. Which includes at least one trip to New York during the school year just in case you miss me. Or, you know, anyone else. It's connected to my account."

Coop smiled mischievously and Blaine nearly knocked over his coffee in a hurry to hug his brother. Then Cooper produced a piece of paper.

"And this is proof that I _will_ come see you for Christmas this year."

It was a plane ticket to Columbus on Christmas Eve, and really, Blaine couldn't have wished for a better birthday present. Christmas alone with his parents was always the toughest part of the year.

Even Sebastian surprised him with a gift – a tastefully decorated box handed to him on Friday night, when his last performance at the _Hippo _turned into a full-blown party, with a birthday cake and champagne right at midnight. Of course, Blaine should have known better than to open Seb's present in public. He didn't think about it, however, overwhelmed with all the joy and love he felt surrounding him, so the extensive set of personal lubricants that the box revealed made him groan and quickly put the lid back on in embarrassment. Sebastian smirked at him.

"What? The nights in Ohio will seem even longer after the summer you've had. Better to be prepared than chafed."

Blaine hid his burning face in his hands.

In all the blissful time they had, Blaine and Kurt managed to fit one conversation about their future. Curled around each other in Kurt's bed one night, still sweaty and cuddly and not-quite-asleep, they exchanged soft assurances about phone calls and Skype and emails, about pictures and spring break, and missing each other. Blaine fell asleep to the thought that no matter how hard it was going to be with the distance, it would be worth it. _Kurt_ would be worth it.

* * *

Kurt was somewhat proud of his abilities to keep himself in check. All week, focused on Blaine, being with Blaine nearly non-stop, with his feelings all fresh and raw and so obvious now – he managed to only break down once.

It was one afternoon at the theater, when he emerged into the foyer to find Blaine with a little girl, maybe two years old, in his arms. Blaine had offered to take care of her for a few minutes, Kurt later learned, while her mom, one of the actresses, talked to the director.

Of course, everyone in the theater knew Blaine by now, so it was no big deal, but somehow the picture of a child held securely in Blaine's embrace as he walked around the foyer, showing her the photos and posters from various performances and answering her incessant questions with a warm, patient smile on his face, touched something raw and aching in Kurt's chest. He had to quietly retreat to his office and work on breathing exercises, and still when Blaine came to find him ten minutes later, Kurt had a hard time convincing him that his red-rimmed eyes were a result of going through the props archives, disturbing the ancient layers of dust there.

He hadn't even known he wanted children one day.

But all in all, he managed better than he thought he would – reminding himself that this was all he could have, the _now_, and just taking what he could. Yes, there would be phone calls and Skype dates later, longing and tender words and assurances, but Kurt didn't let himself believe, not for one moment, that they'd make it until next summer. Until spring break, even. There was no way Blaine wouldn't find someone else by then.

And it was fine. He was ready.

He gave Blaine all he could in that last week – all his attention, his time, all the love he could show without spelling it out. Everything he would be happy to give him every day for years. He planned to give him one last amazing night, too; even without penetrative sex Kurt knew he'd make it unforgettable.

There was also a last, intimate gift for Blaine waiting in his bedside table – a beautiful, sleek black vibrator. It was an exquisite design and the best quality, with a note saying he hoped Blaine would think about him when using it. Sure, it wasn't exactly what Blaine wanted, but Kurt hoped it would be enough.

They'd have one last night together and then, early in the morning, they would say their goodbyes and Blaine would go to Cooper's apartment to pick up his bags and go to the airport with his brother.

Kurt would stay home and finally let himself cry.

* * *

Blaine stared at the box in his hands, the outside classy and discreet, unrevealing until he opened it. He looked honestly surprised, but not in the good way Kurt had desperately hoped for. There was confusion on his sweet face, and a bit of hurt just peeking through the mask of politeness. That Blaine even felt he needed to put on a mask with him hurt. But then again, Kurt had been wearing a far thicker mask himself for a week now.

Blaine cleared his throat now, his face more controlled already, with a pleasant smile.

"Wow, thank you. I guess that together with Seb's collection it solves the problem of long lonely nights when I'm back home. But... can I be honest?"

He closed the box and slid it into the pocket of his jacket before looking into Kurt's eyes, his face suddenly so open and sincere again.

"If this is your big surprise... I mean... It's great, but I really hoped you'd give me something else tonight. Something less... material. I– Kurt, I hoped you'd finally um... make love to me." A pause, ready to be filled with an answer that didn't come, then a quiet, shy question. "Will you?"

There was so much vulnerability in Blaine's amber eyes, such hope, that Kurt would have surely swayed and thrown all caution to the wind had he not taken time to really, truly think about it. Barely able to look at Blaine, he shook his head. Everything inside him screamed to say _yes_.

He couldn't.

Blaine looked like a kicked puppy now.

"But why? I don't understand. I thought you just wanted to wait until I'm eighteen, or maybe it was supposed to be today as a really special night. But– but I don't get it. You like it, you said so yourself. You've done that with other guys. Why not me, Kurt? Why can't you just – Am I not good enough?"

There was a fist clenching Kurt's heart, tightening, but he just told himself to ignore it, to power through. His hand was gentle when he put it on Blaine's chest, over his heart, as if to prevent it from breaking. God, he'd hoped they wouldn't have to have this conversation. Though now that he looked at it, it seemed stupid to think he could have avoided it.

"I can't, Bee. It's different with you. You're more than good enough. You're _perfect_." His voice broke slightly. "That's why I can't."

Blaine's face was pure confusion. "But why? _Tell_ me."

Kurt took a deep breath and repeated what he'd told himself over and over during the previous week; the other half of the truth; the one that _would_ pass through his throat without choking him.

"Because you deserve to have this left, Bee. You're going back home tomorrow. You'll be back to school and your normal life, and in several weeks or months you'll meet someone else, someone who will be right there and your age, not miles and miles away and older than you deserve. You'll call to tell me and it will be a sad day, but it's okay. You'll fall in love and it will be the best feeling in the world, and you'll want to have something to share with this lucky guy, something no one else will ever have had. I can't take that from you, Blaine. I've had so many of your precious firsts this summer, and I'd like to think you'll remember me fondly, but you deserve better than me for –"

The hurt on Blaine's face morphed into angry disbelief in a blink, and Kurt took half a step backwards on instinct. His boyfriend looked scary like that, his eyes flashing and his words hard.

"So wait, I'm some silly summer romance for you, someone to forget the moment I'm gone? Oh god, and I thought you _cared_. Fuck. I'm so stupid."

He was running his fingers through his hair frantically and Kurt wanted to take his hands, hold them, but he didn't dare. Instead, he spoke quietly.

"I _do_ care. It's _because _I care."

Blaine shook his head with a bitter expression. "Clearly not the way I care about you. I told you what I feel. I love you, Kurt. I love you more than I've ever believed possible. I feel like you're my friend, my lover, my soulmate; you're the air when I've lived my whole life in an oxygen tent. You're _everything_, Kurt. The love of my life. Why would you think I'm going to want anyone else?"

"Blaine, you're eighteen. You'll fall in love plenty of times more, you'll see."

"Oh, so now I'm too young to know? To be serious? To love? _Why_? Were you? Have you ever loved like that, Kurt? Do you love _me_? Even the slightest bit? You've never said."

The last words were choked, a desperate demand, and Kurt felt as if his heart was exploding. He swallowed thickly.

_Tell him._

"Bee... I really, really care about you..."

_Tell him now._

"I..." The rest got stuck in his throat though, fear coming in a thick, sticky wave, suffocating. _He will leave me. Everyone does._

He couldn't.

Blaine swayed as if punched, a tiny _Oh_ forced out of his mouth, and then his face closed off before Kurt's very eyes. He nodded formally, his voice quiet but calm when he spoke.

"I see. Well, thank you for everything, Kurt. I think it's safe to say this is goodbye then. Please don't try to contact me. Don't make this more painful."

With that, he turned away and left, just like that, quietly closing the door behind him.

Kurt stood there, paralyzed. He wanted to run after Blaine, to call out, to make him stop.

He didn't.

* * *

It took less than half an hour before there was a pounding on the door, and then a furious-looking Cooper was glaring at Kurt.

"Why is my brother home and crying?"

Kurt's heart clenched, but he managed to keep his own tears at bay. _Not yet. Not until I'm alone_.

"Because I refused to take his virginity."

Well, that was the short version, at least. He moved back towards the kitchen where a solitary bottle of vodka stood on the counter, and poured himself another shot. No diluting tonight. This was medicine; for numbing purposes, not pleasure. It didn't need to taste good.

Coop was right behind him, confusion temporarily dampening his anger.

"Wait. But I thought you guys have been having sex all along?"

"We have. Just not _that_ kind of sex. I refused to take the final step." Kurt clarified. Cooper gaped at him, then frowned again. Even through the visible discomfort with the topic, his defensiveness towards Blaine prevailed.

"Why? So now he isn't good enough for you, after –"

Kurt didn't let him finish, his eyes focused on the empty shot glass. "How long do you think it's going to be before he meets someone else in Ohio?"

Cooper glared at him, shaken out of his building tirade, so Kurt continued quietly. "Another boy his own age with whom he might want to have some firsts to share?"

"He wants _you_, though."

That was true. Kurt took a moment to down another shot before answering. He could feel the alcohol work its way through his system, the sharp, cutting edges of his thoughts and feelings getting fuzzier and more bearable.

"He wants _me _because he's _here_ now, with all the magic of the place and summer and freedom. Because he's infatuated with an older, more worldly lover. It will all fade in the day-to-day reality of school and show choirs and just, life."

"You can't be sure."

"I can't risk it." It was just a whisper.

Cooper sat down on the stool beside him, concerned, though anger still clipped his words.

"So what, you're breaking up with him just in case, because he might decide, one day, that you're not what he wants? That's cruel, Kurt. Not to mention, stupid."

"He broke up with me." Kurt corrected softly and, _ow_. Not nearly numb reached to pour himself some more vodka, but Cooper took the bottle and pushed it out of his reach. Kurt whined, annoyed.

"Wait a second, let me get this straight. He's sobbing in his room because _he_ broke up with _you_? Well he clearly regrets it, go fix it!"

"I can't."

"Sure you can!"

Cooper was winding himself up to enthusiastic puppy mode, clearly relieved. God, they were so similar sometimes, he and Blaine. How was Kurt going to stand spending time with him now?

"Just go there, tell him that you're sorry and that it was a stupid-ass decision, that of course it's his choice who he wants to give his virginity to and – I can't believe I'm talking about my kid brother's virginity, kill me now. And bring him here before you do anything else; no sex in my apartment. See? Easy. Just stop being a fucking knight in shining armor. He knows what he wants and he's old enough to make his own decisions. You said so yourself."

"Coop, I _can't_."

"Oh for fuck's sake, why _not_?" Cooper was looking at him as if he was a stubborn child.

"Because he asked me if I love him." Kurt was surprised how easily it came out of his mouth now, one gentle slide of slightly slurred words. Cooper's eyes widened as he deflated visibly.

"And you don't."

"I _do_."

Saying it out loud for the first time was like a dam breaking. The tears came and there was no way of stopping them now, as the _love_ and _fear_ and _pain_, all mixed with the alcohol, slayed him. So he let himself cry. He slid down to sit on the floor at some point, propped against the fridge, the bottle of vodka clutched to his chest.

He knew he told Cooper to go take care of Blaine. He knew he was asking – begging – ordering him not to tell Blaine, never to tell Blaine about Kurt's feelings because... No, he didn't remember the _because_. But he knew there was one and it seemed to have been of great importance. He just remembered Coop's worried eyes as he promised not to tell, and his voice in the distance, talking to someone before he went.

That was the last thing Kurt remembered when he woke up the next day, complete with a raging headache and a serious case of carpet tongue. Slowly, he uncurled from the fetal position and took stock of his surroundings. He was on his bed, his pants off but the rest of his clothes untouched. There was a glass of water and some aspirin on the bedside table, and a large plastic bowl on the floor, just in case.

And he wasn't alone.

Sebastian was sitting propped against the headboard, in yoga pants and a t-shirt, his iPad in hand. So Cooper had summoned reinforcements then. Kurt must have freaked him out more that he'd thought.

He brought his wrist up to his face, trying to focus on deciphering the hour. It was difficult, his eyes unfocused and head pounding.

"It's noon." Seb's voice came, and even quiet, it sounded scathing. "Idiot."

Noon.

Blaine was gone.

* * *

The first hours after Blaine left Kurt's apartment were a constant shock of pain, every breath brushing like sandpaper against the raw, open wound somewhere deep in his chest. Every movement was a fresh starburst of memories because his body was _Kurt's_, just like his heart was, and Blaine really wanted to be able to hate him then.

He hadn't known it was possible to hurt so much without bleeding to death.

But then, in the middle of the sleepless night, exhausted and counting away minutes that separated him from the moment he would board the plane and leave it all behind, Blaine remembered.

Kurt didn't love easily. He'd been burned and broken and left too many times before to trust anyone with his heart just like that. It wasn't his fault. And it didn't mean he didn't care.

It was all it took to forgive.

Sadly, forgiveness didn't make it hurt any less.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

_4 months later_

Coming back to his childhood home, where he'd felt like a failure so many times and where he had escaped as soon as he could, was not an easy feat. More than once Cooper considered cancelling the ticket, calling Blaine to tell him that he had to be somewhere else for Christmas, that he couldn't make it after all. But the thought of disappointment in those huge eyes stopped him every time.

That, and Blaine's voice.

Cooper had made it his mission not to lose Bee again, to maintain and strengthen their relationship despite the distance. Ever since his brother's return to Ohio in August they'd been talking at least twice a week, every week. And what he heard in Blaine's voice worried him.

Or maybe it was what he hadn't heard. The usual spark, any emotion, _life, _was gone. Bee always sounded calm and composed, and that was it. The only time Cooper had managed to spark anything more in him was when he'd mentioned Kurt once, in September.

Blaine's voice had grown sharp then, strong.

"_Don't_." But it was just a second; the next instant he'd cleared his throat and returned to the usual (_so unusual for him_) monotone. "Sorry. Please don't. I don't want news about him."

He ended the sentence with barely more than a soft whisper, and Cooper had said nothing else about Kurt from then on.

At first he'd thought it was all just a phase, a reaction to the break-up. But as November turned into December and all he'd heard about Blaine's life had been combinations of "I'm fine, school is great, father's difficult as usual, I've sent out my college applications, yes, I'm sure I'm okay," Cooper could no longer justify being too far away to do anything. He wanted to bodily shake the kid and make him spill what was going on.

So here he was now, back at home on a Christmas Eve afternoon, and it was stunning how much smaller and less threatening this place felt. True, he'd changed a lot in the years since he'd last been here. He'd grown to be his own person, no thanks to his family. Even his father with his ramrod-straight posture and strict face no longer provoked the same fearful kind of respect that Cooper had always associated with him. Though, had it ever been respect if it was born from fear?

Honestly, it was freeing.

Plus, the fact that he no longer felt like a child the minute he crossed the threshold meant that he could focus on what – or rather, who – he came here for. And he was glad he could because he really didn't like what he saw.

It wasn't that Blaine had changed all that much. Okay, he might have grown into his frame more, his shoulders broader now, arms more muscled. If Cooper was to guess, he'd say Bee must have been boxing a lot since he'd returned. His hair was slicked back with an even greater amount of the damn gel, looking completely straight and perfectly controlled.

_Everything_ about his brother seemed controlled, Cooper realized, now that he thought about it. His voice, his movements, his completely fake smile. It took Cooper several hours and countless attempts to finally make Blaine smile – _really_ smile, so that a bit of the spark returned to his eyes – and he wondered how much more talking and gentle bickering and jokes were needed to make the armor crack enough for Blaine to tell him how he really was.

* * *

It took another day to start. By the time Christmas dinner rolled around, Blaine was much more relaxed and smiling at least half as much as he had during the summer. They spent the afternoon in his room, Bee gently strumming the guitar as he talked about the Warblers and his academic achievements, about his college applications and the hard time their father was giving him for his insistence to pursue music.

About his desire to come study in New York anyway.

They didn't touch any hard topics – not really. They weren't there yet. But Cooper was staying for two more days and he hoped that by the time he went back home, Blaine would open up enough to really _talk_. He could see the kid needed it. Maybe _he_ needed it too.

Their mom called from downstairs for them to change and come down for Christmas dinner, and when they met by the stairs ten minutes later, Cooper was delighted to see that Blaine was wearing one of the fancy bowties he'd gotten from Kurt. This one was perfect for the occasion, printed in little Christmas trees and candy canes, and combined beautifully with the white shirt and wine red velvet jacket that Blaine had chosen to wear. His little brother looked dashing indeed. Even his smile was back, warm and real, and suddenly Cooper felt very happy he hadn't given up on coming here. Maybe this Christmas would be nice after all.

The delusion lasted about two minutes.

He went to the kitchen to grab an additional serving spoon at his mom's request and stopped in the doorway on his way back, just to enjoy the festive atmosphere in the room. He hadn't realized that he'd missed it – the Christmas tree and the candles, the smell of food permeating the air, and everyone there, relaxed and cheerful. The little moments when the house felt like home. Even their father was in a good mood, smiling.

And it was with a smile that he casually said, "Blaine, please go change out of that faggy bowtie, would you?"

And Bee... he just sighed, his smile freezing into the fake, fixed expression that looked so wrong on him, and got up to go back upstairs.

Cooper's jaw dropped. In three strides he was by the table, his hand on Blaine's shoulder to stop him, his eyes focused on their father's calm face.

"_What_ did you say to him?" He hardly recognized his voice, it was so strained and tight with anger. It only got worse when Blaine spoke, quietly.

"It's okay, Coop, I'll just go put on a tie. I'll be right–"

"No you won't." _God _he hadn't felt this furious in years. "What do you mean '_It's okay'_? It's not okay, it's –"

Blaine answered softly enough for only Cooper to hear. "It's how it is. I'm used to it. I'll just go change, really. Don't worry about it."

And Blaine's voice, placating when it should be angry, caused something in Cooper to snap hard and hot, a piece that had grown and strengthened from living in New York, from his friendship with Kurt and Sebastian, from seeing his own brother flourishing and happy when he was accepted in a way that should be obvious and natural.

It no longer mattered that the man in front of him was his father, that Cooper used to fear and obey him, and cower before his judgment. He didn't owe this man anything. And now when he looked at him, Cooper didn't see the towering figure that cast a shadow over his own childhood with scathing remarks and casual verbal jabs that were too little to be called abuse but enough to hurt to the very core, every day. What he saw was a common asshole, a homophobic jerk like many he'd encountered and despised, a man not worth his attention.

Except he _was_ his father, Blaine's father too, and that alone gave him power and control over them. Or... at least over Blaine. Because Cooper just realized that he no longer gave a fuck about what his father thought. And he would be damned if he let his brother's life be ruined by him the same way his was.

* * *

There was so much Cooper wanted to say when he faced their father with the full force of his glare. It was nothing to Kurt's bitchy stare, and he entertained a fleeting thought of his friend's reaction if he'd been here. There might be bloodshed.

But Kurt wasn't here and Cooper said the first thing that came to mind.

"This _bowtie_ was given to him by his boyfriend – and my best friend; a man who made Blaine the happiest I'd ever seen him. And your choice of words is offensive, to say the least, if not –"

Their father interrupted him, frowning at Blaine.

"You have a boyfriend? I thought we talked about ceasing this nonsense, especially while you're under my roof."

"I _don't_ have a boyfriend."

There were tears in Blaine's eyes when he looked at Cooper, an expression that made him look like a small, trapped animal.

"Coop, _please_ don't. I'll just..." He drew a shaky breath and shook Cooper's hand off his shoulder, fleeing upstairs.

_Fuck_. Cooper winced. Way to go, saying exactly the wrong thing. It wasn't helping, dammit.

With Blaine gone, their father's icy glare focused on him instead.

"I don't like your tone, son."

Oh, look, but the anger was still there, burning in his chest. And Cooper was not going to deny it.

"Well _I_ don't like your attitude, _father_."

God, it felt good to say it at last, to stand up to this man the way he'd dreamed countless times he would, but never dared. Well, he was done holding himself back.

The man stood up, towering over him.

"You better watch your mouth, son. Did you forget who you are talking to?"

Cooper snorted humorlessly. "Like I could forget. Always the same tone, the same demeaning comments. It's so very _you_,I couldn't mistake it for anyone else. And now you've added homophobic slurs, too. How nice of you."

"I'm helping him grow up at last. He has to become a man at some point. I won't have my son be a damn fairy who thinks he can feed a family on music."

Cooper arched an eyebrow, surprised.

"Oh, so you accept that he'll have a family one day, that's something."

His father looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"Of course he'll have a family, a proper wife and children like a man should. Like _you_ should, too."

Oh. Right. And for a moment he'd actually thought...

"And you think it works like that, that he'll just go and do what you tell him to."

There was a shrug, as if everything was clear and settled already.

"He's a smart kid. Misguided, but smart. He'll come around. Just like he will about college. By the way, I want you to support me when we talk about that tonight. You made the right decision with your education, even though you tried to rebel at first, too, and look where you are now. I know Blaine will listen when you convince him that business is the only way to go."

Cooper spluttered, hardly able to believe his ears. "No I _won't_! Are you kidding? Why would I do that? He loves music and he's so talented! You can't force him to give up his dream."

His father actually snorted. "Dreams are for fools, and of course I can. Who pays for his damn overpriced school?"

Cooper felt all blood leave his face. "You wouldn't."

He hated how calm his father looked, with that little smirk of satisfaction on his face. "I will if I have to. But I don't think it's going to be necessary. When he has to choose between transferring to a public school come January and going to a respectable business school after graduation, I know what he's going to choose."

The fury was choking Cooper now, hot and bubbling, and he snapped. "_I_ will pay for his school if you won't."

A spark of an idea, a shock of instant decision, and he took a deep breath before the dive.

"Actually..."

Cooper had always considered himself a coward. He wasn't proud of it, but he just didn't have the kind of courage needed to stand up to people. He'd accepted that his was the easier, if less admirable way of adapting to circumstances.

Which was why his next words truly surprised him.

* * *

The discussion that followed made him feel more certain about what he'd just done than he'd ever been about anything. This was what he knew how to do – presenting an offer, negotiating conditions, sealing the deal. He was good at it, and he had his ways to get to an agreement. Now he only needed one final _yes_.

He found Blaine in his room, curled up on the bed, worrying the fabric of the bowtie in his hands. He looked so small like this, so vulnerable, his lashes still wet and his hair disheveled, and Cooper's heart broke for him. All that time, _years_ like this. And Cooper hadn't known; he'd never pushed enough to learn. He'd preferred to live in the blissful ignorance, comfortable in his safe little world in New York, happy to escape the mess that was his family home.

God, he'd been so selfish.

"I'm so sorry, Bee. Please forgive me."

He meant so much more than just today's events.

"It was a bad idea." Blaine's voice was rough with tears. "I should never have asked you to come. Now you'll go home and he'll be vicious and mean for days, and I'll never hear the end of it." He turned to look at Cooper and it was _so_ fucked up that Bee was angry at _him_. "You don't just come and stir the pot. I have to _live_ in this house, Coop."

Oh, right.

"Actually, you don't. Come live with me."

Blaine turned away from him. "Not funny."

"I'm not joking. Come to New York with me."

Blaine sat up now and shrugged dismissively, but at least he was looking at Cooper again.

"You know it's not possible. Not before college."

Cooper put his hand on Blaine's, putting every bit of conviction in his tone.

"I don't want you to stay here. I don't want you to have to hear this shit every day. I don't want to go back to New York and wonder if it won't break you. Please come home with me."

There was a faint glimmer of hope in Blaine's eyes even as he shook his head.

"I'd have to change schools. In the middle of senior year."

"Yes."

"They'll never allow it."

"They already did."

Cooper had to smile at the way Blaine's jaw dropped. It took a moment before he could speak again.

"He won't pay for me to go there."

"I know. I will. Please say yes."

A few deep breaths, a handful of seconds that felt like hours as Cooper waited. Blaine's lip trembled.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Cooper couldn't contain a wide grin.

"Okay, I'll go with you."

"Tomorrow?"

"_What_?" It was almost a squeak.

"Okay, the day after tomorrow. We'll need a day to get it all sorted out. Now come on, put the bowtie back on and let's go eat that dinner. It would be a shame to waste good food."

* * *

A phone call to Sebastian followed right after dinner. Cooper knew it was Christmas. He knew it was rude to call with anything but well wishes today. He also knew Seb wouldn't mind.

He didn't have to explain much. Just the highlights had Sebastian spewing an enraged string of profanities that quickly led to apologizing to someone in the background. When Cooper asked if he knew anyone who could help find a good school for Blaine that would take him now, no matter what the cost, Sebastian didn't hesitate.

"Yeah, I just might. Give me a little while, I'll call you back."

Cooper expected 'a little while' to last a few days though, not ten minutes.

"Okay, done. It will cost you, it's one of the top high schools in New York, but somehow I don't think it's a problem."

"It isn't, but... how?"

Sebastian laughed, clearly delighted.

"Cooper dearest, you called in the middle of the famous annual Smythe family Christmas party. It's the crème de la crème here right now. You couldn't have chosen a better moment when it comes to connections. All it took was approaching the right woman and telling her the sad, moving story of an astonishingly talented boy needing an emergency removal from a homophobic family environment. She's the dean there. And she's here with her wife. Any other questions?"

"Um... I... yeah, just give me a moment –"

Seb chuckled. "I'll give you more than that, sweet pea. She'll mail me all the papers and requirements tomorrow so I'll call and tell you everything then. It _is _Christmas, after all."

"God, I'd kiss you if you were here right now." He couldn't believe it; the decision was made not two hours ago and already almost everything was in place for Blaine's relocation.

Sebastian sighed dramatically in his ear. "Damn. What a waste of a good kiss. Save it for me."

"I promise."

* * *

Blaine couldn't sleep that night, overwhelmed with everything that had happened. And yet, as he was tossing and turning in his suddenly uncomfortable bed, he couldn't shake off the feeling that it was all a dream: Cooper standing up to their father, _for him_. The offer to move to New York, and not in six or eight months – now. Sebastian's phone call with news that he already had a place at a new school – a good school, _great_ even, apparently. In New York.

He was going to New York, to stay with Cooper. To be free.

He couldn't believe it. It was too good to happen to him, too much like his most secret dreams coming true.

Everyone was long asleep, the house completely quiet around him, when Blaine finally gave up and did something he hadn't tried since he was six.

Cooper no longer had his own room here, obviously; it had been turned into a guest room years ago. But it was in this particular guest room that he slept now, and sneaking out across the hall on his bare feet, Blaine felt the same old mixture of anxiety and need for comfort that had always lead him to his older brother's room when he was a kid. The door opened and closed soundlessly, and even though the layout of the room was different (not to mention, it was a lot cleaner), Cooper's sleeping form brought the same feeling of _safe _it had back then.

Of course, this was where the similarities ended. As a toddler and then a preschooler, Blaine used to sneak into Coop's room after a nightmare or an upsetting day, worming his way under the covers into the comforting warmth of another human being, and falling asleep. Their parents had never been the hugging kind. Their father believed it made boys soft when they were doted upon, and he'd been angry every time he found Blaine cuddled to his brother's side in the morning.

But Blaine couldn't help it; sometimes he just needed to be close to somebody – his skin itching like it was starved for human contact. That was why, years later, he loved the simple pleasure of sleeping with Kurt so much.

Okay, _no_. No thinking about Kurt.

Blaine wasn't six anymore, though; they were both more or less adult. It felt awkward to even be here with Cooper. So he just sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and whispered, "Coop?"

The fact that Cooper opened his eyes immediately was a proof that he was having a restless night, too. Usually he slept like a log.

Coop blinked blearily and burrowed deeper under the covers to keep the winter chill of the house away. His voice was a little raspy and a lot concerned when he spoke.

"What's wrong, Bee?"

Blaine really didn't mean to sound desperate – in fact, he was aiming for cool and nonchalant. But his inner blurter was ahead of him.

"Please tell me I haven't dreamed it all."

He expected Coop to laugh, but his brother just moved closer to the wall, making room for him in the double bed, and raised the corner of the comforter.

"Hop in." When Blaine hesitated, Cooper chuckled humorlessly. "You still remember that last time he found you here, huh? I guess if he came in now, he'd have a plethora of comments about us being inappropriately close. I'm almost tempted to see how creative he'd get."

Blaine let out a choked noise and Cooper grew serious immediately.

"But I won't. Come on, it's cold. I wake up at dawn anyway, I'll kick you out to your room to start packing, deal?"

Blaine nodded and settled in, the bed warm and comfy.

"So... I _am_ going with you?"

"You're absolutely coming with me. I promise." Coop answered solemnly.

"So it means you're going to be my guardian now?"

"Technically... I mean, yes. We'll see how it goes."

Blaine had to smile at the self-deprecating note in his brother's voice.

"You did fine in the summer and I promise not to be a menace. So... do I get to study what I want?"

He was pretty sure Cooper wouldn't try and control his college choices, but after months of battles about music versus business (well, music versus _anything_, really) he had to make sure. The comforter moved as Coop shrugged.

"Well, I'd rather you didn't study black magic, maybe, but it's your life and your choices. You know what you want and I'll support it. We'll talk about the financial side of college at some point since I may not be able to pay for it completely, but that's for the future. For now, I just want you to focus on graduating and getting into the school you want. And... to be happy," he added softly and Blaine felt tears sting his eyes again.

It was dark. He let them flow.

"Thank you." It was all he could say, and he hoped Coop understood just how much it all meant to him.

They lay in silence for a long moment but even when Blaine's tears dried, sleep still didn't come. There was one more thing he really wanted to know.

"Coop?"

"Hm?"

"How's Kurt?"

Cooper hesitated, as if deciding what to say. Or maybe he was just falling asleep when Blaine spoke.

"He's been... busy. The line of clothes he designed is out now and selling phenomenally. They've offered him a lot of new opportunities at the company, so he quit his day job at the theater and only works from home now."

Blaine smiled. He'd always known Kurt would make it big at _La Nuit_. He cleared his throat before asking quietly.

"Does he... has he been dating?"

Cooper turned to him in the dark. "Bee... don't do this to yourself."

"Tell me." He already knew he wouldn't like the answer but suddenly, it was all he could think of.

"He... there have been a few guys. As far as I know."

"... _oh_."

He really shouldn't have expected any different but still, it stung. What was he thinking, really? Well, he knew what. Some small, silly part of him kept hoping that even though Kurt had never admitted he loved him, maybe – just maybe – his _I really care about you _had meant just that. That Kurt was just too afraid to call it love, but he'd felt it nonetheless. So many of his actions this past summer had suggested it.

Well, Blaine had been deluding himself. Again. And it was time to let go.

"Coop? Don't tell him I'm moving." He almost managed to keep his voice steady.

"But –"

"Please. Don't tell him. Ask Sebastian not to, as well. I... It will be enough of a challenge with the move and the new school. I can't deal with my feelings if I see him, too. Please?"

Cooper looked like he wanted to say something but in the end, he just nodded.

"If you're sure that's what you want."

"I'm sure."

* * *

The next two days were absolutely crazy. There was plenty of packing, choosing what to take with him and what to leave behind – an important choice, considering he wouldn't be coming back. The next time he came here, whenever it might be, he would be a guest. His home, his room – these words would no longer be associated with Westerville_, _Ohio.

The resulting stack of boxes was too large to take with them, and Cooper ended up arranging a moving company to transport it. It would arrive in New York a day after they did.

Dalton was closed for Christmas and there wasn't much that could be done about it, but their father surprised them by saying he'd go and take care of the transfer formalities as soon as it opened after the break. Now that the decision had been made, he was shockingly polite to both of them, accommodating even, and not once in two days did he utter any of his biting comments. It kept Blaine wondering what exactly Cooper had told him.

Still, he wouldn't miss his father. He wassad to leave his mom, and she shed a few tears too while helping him pack, but the truth was, they were both more than ready for this day. It had always been clear that Blaine would move away for college and the few months didn't really change much. At least Blaine knew that she would try and keep in contact with him.

Their flight was on the evening of the 27th and that morning Blaine had managed to gather half of the Warblers – those that hadn't gone away for Christmas – for coffee and goodbyes. This was the hardest part of all, it turned out. Leaving his friends so suddenly, and in the middle of the competition season, too – Blaine's sense of responsibility kept him apologizing for most of the hour they had, but they understood, especially those who were close enough to know about his family's attitude. They sent him away with smiles and wishes of good luck, and promises to update him with news and show recordings by email. Wes wrote down the combination to Blaine's locker and promised to empty it and send the few personal things Blaine kept in there to New York.

Finally, everything was ready and with one last look at the house, they started towards Columbus. Huddled in the passenger seat of Coop's rented car, Blaine felt dazed, the amount of changes that had come in a mere three days too sudden and overwhelming. It still didn't compute fully.

It was only when the plane took off that Blaine let out a breath and realized he'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop all along. For Cooper to change his mind. Or their parents. For a phone call saying that no, transferring now wouldn't be possible after all. To wake up from this strange, wonderful dream.

But it hadn't happened, and it wouldn't now. He was on his way to New York.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **_The second song that I really, really want you to listen to comes in this chapter. It may be the most important song in this whole story, so please make sure you are able to listen to it; I think lyrics just aren't enough. And it's a lovely song._

_When you reach it, stop reading for a moment. Close your eyes. See inside Kurt's head._

* * *

**CHAPTER 21**

Contrary to popular belief, Cooper wasn't completely oblivious or so obsessed with his job that he saw nothing beyond it. He just tended to focus solely on things that mattered at any given time, and ignored everything else.

Lately, what mattered was his baby brother.

At first glance, Blaine was doing well – now. There'd been a period of adjustment back in January, with both of them trying to find their places in the new situation. Soon though, Blaine had adapted to the changed circumstances both at home and at school. His grades were excellent, he got on well with people, even went on a few dates. In the three months that passed since he'd moved to New York, he acted content and thriving.

Acted being the key word.

Blaine may not have realized, but Cooper saw more than he let on. Like how lonely his brother really was. Blaine had no close friends here – Kurt was out of the picture, Meg rarely had time now with all of her extracurriculars, and no one at school cared to really get close to the new kid mere months before graduation. There was a show choir there, but they didn't let new people in so late in the school year – or so Blaine said.

And he didn't even have his usual comfort of a piano. It was the one thing he loved that he couldn't take with him when he left Westerville. And since it would require major remodeling to fit a piano in their apartment, they'd decided that for now, Blaine would practice at school. Still, it wasn't the same as having it literally at his fingertips at any time, and Cooper knew it.

He also knew that Blaine still missed Kurt. He knew exactly how often the smile on his face was just a mask put on to keep Cooper from worrying. He saw the melancholy creep into Blaine's eyes when he thought no one was looking. Cooper would never break the kid's confidence by going through the journal he knew he kept, but he didn't have to. The number of times he'd heard Blaine call Kurt's name in his sleep was enough to know that he still hadn't gotten over him.

And yet, he'd never once asked Cooper about him. He hadn't mentioned Kurt's name in a conversation since that night back in December.

If Blaine wanted to know, Cooper would tell him all about the big changes in Kurt's life, what with him signing a contract with _La Nuit_ to be one of their permanent designers. He would mention how much Kurt worked now, always taking on more, and how tired and drawn he seemed whenever he managed to make time to meet his friends. He would casually drop in the random observation about how sad Kurt's eyes always were in spite of his dreams coming true, or about his reluctance to date anymore, supposedly because of lack of time. He'd tell his brother that Kurt missed him too.

As it was, he didn't.

But the whole situation was exhausting! Those two idiots were both still in love, and no matter how furious Cooper had been at the mere thought of them being together back when he first learned about it, things had changed. It was high time they did something to end this infuriating impasse, if only so that Cooper could get back to his usual efficiency at work.

Really, enough was enough.

So one sunny Saturday at the beginning of April he did something that he wished someone had done for him and Amita, years ago: He interfered. It was just one sentence dropped carelessly over lunch with his two friends. A slip of the tongue, of course.

"Okay, sorry guys, I gotta go, I promised Bee I'd make dinner today for a change."

That was enough.

Kurt's eyes grew wide, but he made a decent attempt at sounding neutral.

"Oh, is Blaine visiting?"

Seb chuckled, not even looking away from tapping something on his phone. "I wonder how you'll explain this shit now."

Cooper pretended to be horrified. "_Fuck_. I wasn't supposed to... Damn, can you forget I said that?"

"No_._" Oh, good. He'd hoped Kurt wouldn't just let it pass.

"Shit. I promised I wouldn't tell you, but... looks like I already did. Oh well. Blaine lives with me now. Full time."

"_Oh._" Kurt took a shaky breath and forced his face into composure. It was so quick Cooper wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't known him so well. "What about his school?"

"He transferred, right after Christmas. It was a bit of a challenge but Seb helped –" Cooper didn't miss the vicious look Kurt threw Sebastian, who just shrugged, "and we managed to pull it off. I couldn't just leave him back in Ohio. I hate that I had for so long before."

Concern furrowed Kurt's brow. "Your father...?"

"Yeah. I promised Bee I'd come home for Christmas and... fuck, if only I'd known earlier... I just couldn't leave him in that poisoned house a day longer. No matter what."

He cleared his throat, which was tightening again. Blaine was safe now, but Cooper would never stop feeling guilty that it had taken him so long to get his shit together. The emotions must have shown on his face because alarm flared in Kurt's eyes.

"Did he –" He didn't have to finish; Cooper understood. His own mind had gone the same path first.

"No, he never hit Blaine. I asked. He just... can you imagine living in the atmosphere of daily, casual homophobia? At your own home?" He sighed and shook his head. "I didn't know it was that bad. Bee never told me."

"What about your mother? You never talk about her. Does she share your father's views?"

Cooper shook his head. "Not really, but she wouldn't do anything about it. She loves Blaine – she loves both of us, I guess – and she would try to make him feel better in her own little ways, but she wouldn't intervene. She was raised to believe it's not a woman's place to argue with her husband's decisions, you know? He's the man of the family, which means he's always right."

"I'm glad you took him in, then." Kurt was trying – and failing – not to let the magnitude of emotions shaking him seep out. "I'd ask you to tell Blaine _hi_ from me, but clearly it wouldn't be welcome. Not that I blame him." He focused on finishing his coffee, then looked at his watch with an exaggerated surprise. "Oh, I guess I should be going too. I promised Julian I'd send him the new sketches by Monday morning and they're still not ready."

The minute he was out the door, Seb looked at Cooper with a raised eyebrow and shook his head.

"Meddler." Cooper only shrugged, and Sebastian smiled wistfully. "I totally won, by the way. Remember our bet? If this isn't our little Kurt in love, I don't know what is. Still needs to take his head out of his ass and fix things, but, _loooove_. Now pay up."

Cooper went home a hundred dollars poorer that afternoon. He didn't mind in the slightest.

* * *

All his meddling seemed to be for naught, though.

Assuming Kurt wouldn't last long before calling Blaine under some pretext, Cooper had come clean to his brother as soon as he returned home – well, half-clean, maybe, leaving out the part of it being far from an accident. It was only fair to let Blaine be prepared. He expected anger, with a dash of excitement, maybe. Instead, there was only a shrug before Blaine went back to studying.

The way he stopped leaving his phone everywhere and startled every time it rang gave him away, though.

Still, days and then weeks passed and Kurt didn't try to contact Blaine even once. What's more, he stopped having time to meet with Coop and Sebastian. He claimed he was busy designing, sewing, travelling to Boston every week; always talking about work and Julian. Constantly, _Julian_.

And as Blaine's smile kept getting weaker and less frequent, Cooper cursed himself for interfering. He'd only made it worse.

* * *

Kurt was slowly and deliberately drowning himself in work.

It started small, as a coping technique. Alcohol was neither practical nor fun in the long run, and he quickly discovered that going back to casual hook-ups – fighting fire with fire, so to speak – was no longer appealing to him.

He had to do something else. If he hadn't, he would have too much time to notice how much he hated coming home to an empty apartment and waking up alone. To reflect on the fact that nothing seemed to make him happy lately.

To admit that Cooper's latest revelation was like a punch to the gut, because it only confirmed what Kurt had been trying not to believe all along: that Blaine really wanted nothing to do with him anymore. That Kurt had screwed up and there was no turning back.

So he worked.

Fortunately, it turned out _La Nuit_ thrived on people like him – young, talented and determined to succeed. They didn't treat his avalanches of ideas as a threat to their regular designers, like some other fashion houses might. On the contrary – they appreciated his work and encouraged him to follow his fashion instinct, which proved pretty damn good more than once. Julian, who'd become his company "sponsor" and greatest supporter, couldn't stop wondering that Kurt hadn't been discovered earlier, and had made it his personal mission to see him succeed.

They worked at some projects together and as months went by, they'd become friends. Kurt had even stayed overnight at Julian's a couple of times when he'd been too tired to drive back home after a designing/brainstorming session in Boston. Julian's wife, an adorable tiny creature (with a huge belly right now, as they were expecting twins in June), had virtually adopted Kurt on the spot and kept trying to fatten him up every time they'd met.

As time passed, Kurt worked more and more. By the end of April, he had virtually no free time left – socializing got cut first, then proper cooking and any sleep he could spare; but it was okay. He had the job of his dreams where he could work from home, in his own time and on his own terms. He was doing what he loved, for a company he'd admired for years, and it looked like he was on a fast track to the top.

So why wasn't he happy, dammit?

Of course, he knew why. He could pretend all he wanted, work until he dropped; he could hide from his thoughts and feelings, but he would never be able to run away from the mark on his own heart – the one that Blaine had left despite all of Kurt's defenses and precautions, with just the softest touch, tender, sincere words and a smile that made Kurt dizzy.

He knew he couldn't escape, but it didn't mean he'd stop trying. He wouldn't, because there was no alternative. And if this was his punishment for being stupid, so be it.

Even if he was no longer sure which particular stupidity he meant: letting love in or pushing Blaine away. Probably both.

Working from home and on his own schedule had a lot of benefits and a few drawbacks, one of them being the fact that his body clock was completely messed up now. Usually, he just worked until he crashed, no matter what time it was, slept for a few hours and then woke up to work again. Sometimes he couldn't fall asleep. Sometimes he forgot to. Sometimes he found himself sitting on the floor, desperate and aching, with a phone in his hand and his finger hovering over Blaine's number, until he'd finally deleted it during one such night – to prevent himself from going against Blaine's wishes and trying to push himself back into his life.

The rational part of his brain kept telling him he couldn't live like this much longer, that he should take better care of himself or he was going to make himself sick. But then the reality check would come: _who cared_? He had no one to motivate him to take care of himself. So what if he died younger because of his unhealthy lifestyle? At least he'd leave behind fabulous designs and a name that would hopefully be widely recognized by fashion-conscious people everywhere.

If only the exhaustion didn't affect the connection between his brain and his hand, he pondered one May morning, leaving his apartment to go to the nearest coffeeshop. He hoped that the walk (and coffee, and ooh maybe a bagel) would help him clear his head and stay awake long enough to finish the newest batch of sketches. He had a fantastic dress idea – lace, velvet and intricate silver details – that he really wanted to draw out and save before he crashed.

He was running over the details of the design in his head as he entered the coffeeshop, considering sketching particular parts rather than the complete dress, when a familiar figure caught his eye and he turned to look, distracted.

And froze, rooted to the spot.

Kurt hadn't seen him in eight and a half months – and it didn't matter at all. His heart flew, soared just as swift and high as it had back in August, if not more so. He felt something deep down give way, something fall back into place, and he was too surprised and too exhausted to try and fight it. He could only stand and stare at Blaine's profile as he waited in line a few feet from Kurt, unaware of his presence.

[ here's where you go to YouTube and look for "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri ]

Standing and just breathing, feeling everything suddenly settle softly and perfectly, Kurt wondered why the hell it had seemed so complicated. Why he'd fought it so, when it was right and obvious and easy. Why hadn't anyone smacked him on the head and told him some things don't need planning or thinking or having control over. Some things just _are_. Sometimes all you have to do is surrender.

He didn't know when he moved, didn't even realize he had, but then Blaine finished ordering his coffee and turned, and suddenly they were face to face, Blaine's golden eyes wide, and Kurt could only breathe out, "Bee."

* * *

Blaine had been wondering how he would act, what he'd feel when he inevitably met Kurt again one day. Between both of them playing important roles in Cooper's life and how close they lived to each other now, it was bound to happen sooner or later. And since Blaine's heart stubbornly refused to accept that any relationship they'd had was over, he anxiously expected that moment to be awkward, painful or/and terrifying.

What he hadn't expected was his brain completely ignoring the time and distance and everything that had happened since they'd last seen each other, and jumping right to loving, caring mode. But he couldn't help it, especially with Kurt looking so... not-okay; paler than usual and clearly exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, his hair mussed and a streak of what looked like graphite dust on his cheekbone. All Blaine's instincts, all his feelings kicked in immediately and he barely managed to stop himself from just reaching and smoothing his fingers over Kurt's cheek.

Instead, he grabbed a wooden stirrer to have something to play with.

"Kurt. It's good to see you."

And it was true; there was no awkwardness, but when had there ever been any between them? It felt like they had just parted yesterday and now everything clicked back into place, seamlessly.

"You're up already? Or still? It's barely 7:30. Have you even slept today?"

There was a slow, dazed smile spreading over Kurt's face and _really_, how could Blaine have believed that he was able to live his life without this man in it? As a friend if nothing else, but _there_. Clearly he'd been a deluded idiot but he would definitely make sure to fix this mistake now.

Kurt spoke at last, his eyes still wide and bright even though his voice sounded rough and breathless.

"I could definitely use some rest but... have coffee with me?"

Blaine glanced at the clock over the counter and winced. "I can't, I've got to run or I'll be late for class, but... tomorrow? I should be home around 4:30. Come over after that and we'll go from there?"

Kurt beamed. "Perfect. See you tomorrow then."

* * *

In the end Kurt didn't get his coffee or a bagel. He just went home, grinning like a loon, and faceplanted on the bed. He was out like a light and when he woke up, it was nineteen hours later and he felt like a new man. A new, _hopeful_ man.


	22. Chapter 22

** CHAPTER 22**

Once Kurt was up and showered, the hours spread before him like barren land that needed to be crossed before he could see Blaine again.

He couldn't focus on anything. He broke a cup while making coffee, nearly walked into a bike on his way to pick up some groceries, and then, while trying to distract himself with preparing some samples for Julian, he sewed right through his fingertip – what was he, an amateur? Finally, he gave up and decided to go wait at Cooper's – well, the Anderson brothers', now – apartment. It was barely half past three when he ran up the stairs to burn some of his nervous energy, but he had his sketchbook and his iPad. He could wait. He knew Cooper wouldn't mind if he just let himself in, and he hoped Blaine wouldn't, either.

The first sound hit him the moment he closed the door behind him, and Kurt froze. Blaine's voice. It was unmistakable. Time may have passed, but the sounds Blaine made in the most intimate moments had never faded from Kurt's memory.

For some reason, Blaine was home already.

The first moan was followed by another, and then more, in quick succession, and Kurt stood there, knowing full well that he should leave as quietly as possible to grant Blaine his privacy, and never, ever mention he'd been here. His body had other ideas, though. He was rooted to the spot, arousal spiking his blood and burning his cheeks – until he realized that Blaine may not be alone in there.

He should have thought about it earlier, really – it was so obvious. Blaine had been in New York for months now, he was gorgeous and so very special. Why wouldn't he have a boyfriend? And when he'd agreed to meet Kurt, neither of them said anything about their relationship, past or future. For all he knew, Blaine thought it was just two old friends meeting for coffee. And here Kurt was, high on false hopes and ready to apologize, explain, confess. He secretly dreamed of forgiveness and even the tiniest chance to fix it, to make things right again.

God, he would smack his forehead if there was a way to do it soundlessly. He'd been so stupid. Pathetic, really, hoping that Blaine had waited for him all this time.

He had his hand on the doorknob, waiting for another louder sound to cover the squeak of the hinges, when he heard it, breathless and desperate.

"Kurt, fuck, yeah. Just like that. Fuck me, oh god, yes, _yes_, so good, _Kurrrrrrt_–"

None of his actions afterward were a conscious decision – not taking the few steps towards Blaine's room, not pushing the half-open door. But there he was, and the picture he saw may have stopped his heart for a moment.

Blaine was on all fours, naked on the bed, his delicious round ass pointed towards the door. And he was fucking himself on a large purple dildo, much bigger than the one Kurt had given him. This one was actually closer to Kurt's own size, yet it was sliding in and out of Blaine's stretched hole with an ease that made Kurt's head spin and his brain go blank.

He heard a whimper, and before he realized it was his own, Blaine was scrambling to get under the covers, squeaking "Cooper!" in a panicked, breathless voice.

It was only when he was covered up to his neck, his face a furious shade of red, that Blaine actually looked at the door – and covered his eyes, mortified.

"_OhmygodKurt_."

Kurt still hadn't regained his composure though, too much blood flowing south at once, because the only thing his mouth thought to produce was "Yes. Please, I'll do anything you want. I'll fuck you right now if you want to, I –"

He broke because Blaine was looking at him with wide eyes, and some tiny, still functioning part of his brain told Kurt that it wasn't a _yes, please _look. Just a beat of silence, and then Blaine spoke, surprisingly calm and collected, considering that he still had a rather large dildo up his ass.

"Thank you, but I don't think it would be uh... appropriate. You were right, last year. I don't want to give it up to someone who doesn't love me, just for fun."

It felt like a punch in the face, hard and unexpected, and the worst thing was, Kurt knew he deserved it. It was enough to make his brain kick-start again, and his cheeks burned with the sudden realization of what he'd just done. Barging in like this, and saying those things to Blaine... oh _god_. He really couldn't have done worse, could he?

"But I –" He swallowed thickly and shook his head. No. There was no way to save this situation, no use trying. No coffee dates or talking or confessions could come after this. "No, you're right. I was a moron, and now it's too late. I'm sorry I came in like that, I won't do it again. I'll just go and –"

"Too late for what?" Blaine's voice was small and soft all of a sudden, though he was trying to keep his face indifferent.

Kurt took a deep breath, trying to will away the sting behind his eyes. Of _course_ he would just come and screw it up all over again.

But Blaine was waiting for an answer. _God, get a grip, Hummel_. _At least give him that._

"Too late... for us? For me to tell you how infinitely sorry I am, for trying to make it up to you, for confessing..." he trailed off.

"Kurt?" It was barely a whisper and the hopeful note in Blaine's voice made Kurt's heart pick up speed.

"I... I was an idiot."

"Are you saying..."

"I'm saying that I love you, that I _have_ loved you all along, but I was afraid and–"

"Kurt." Calm and quiet, but firm, and Kurt took a deep, shaky breath.

"Yes."

"Let me... I need a little time. Let me call you when I'm ready for this conversation, okay?"

Okay then. Was a little time a day? A few? A week maybe? More? Or was it just a gentle way to tell him to go away? Whatever it was, it was not Kurt's call.

He nodded and turned away.

With a shaky "I'm so sorry," he left.

* * *

Kurt managed to get home, kick off his shoes, go to the bathroom to wash his hands, glare at himself in the mirror, make coffee and then abandon it in favor of slumping in the window seat and moping (because _really, what had he been thinking?_), before there was a soft knock on the door.

Whoever it was, they'd have to go away because Kurt was _so _done with people. He wasn't a people person, he'd just decided. He'd shut himself in his studio from now on, surround himself with sketchbooks and fabric, order groceries online and live a solitary life, saving the humanity from having to endure his awkward and destructive behavior.

_Honestly_. He just didn't deserve a relationship if all he could do to the man he loved was either hurt or embarrass him.

The knocking came again – once, twice – and then Kurt heard the last voice he expected, muffled by the door.

"Kurt? Are you here?"

By the time Kurt jumped up and got to the door, his phone started to ring, and he pulled the door open to find Blaine there, real and gorgeous and fully clothed, _thank god_, with a phone by his ear. He clicked it off and the ringing stopped, and then he was smiling shyly at Kurt.

"Hi. I was thinking... how about we have that coffee now? Here, preferably? I think we need to talk."

"Um. Sure. Hi. Of course. Come on in." God, what was it with the incoherence today?

By the time they maneuvered their way through apologizing profusely (Kurt, for walking in like that and not having the sense to leave immediately) and assurances that it was fine (Blaine, though he must have been just saying that because _how could this have been fine?_), the coffee was ready and the cups placed on the kitchen table. They sat down opposite each other in silence and for a moment, Kurt could just look into those eyes, relearning every hue, every swirl of color. Then, remembering that he should probably say something, he cleared his throat.

"I was certain you'd never want to see me again after I barged in like that."

He felt himself blush and Blaine chuckled, a quiet, slightly embarrassed sound.

"Um, no. I just thought it would be awkward to ask you to wait in the living room until I got myself more... presentable." His cheeks were pink now, too. He looked beautiful.

"_Oh_. Right. Good thinking. I mean... god, I'm _so_ sorry, Blaine, really. I'll just... give the keys back to you now, or to Coop next time I see him, I'll –"

"Kurt." One soft word, but it was enough to cut his slightly hysterical rambling. Feeling as if something was unraveling in his chest; dizzy with anticipation or anxiety, or both, Kurt took a deep breath.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I'm shutting up now."

Blaine looked at him, so open and serious, and only the way his hands fidgeted with the coffee cup betrayed that he was nervous at all.

"I need to know something, okay? And please be honest with me."

"Always, from now on. I swear."

"How much of what you said back there, earlier, was because you walked in on me getting off to a fantasy of you?" Blaine's blush was even deeper now, but his eyes never left Kurt's.

A part of this sentence had a potential to send blood away from where it was really needed right now, so Kurt hastily filed the thought away for later.

"_None_." He said with conviction. "Well, I mean, the _way_ I said it had plenty to do with that, because I lost my filter for a moment. But I meant everything I said, Blaine. I do love you. I've loved you for a long time. I hoped I'd get to tell you today."

Blaine drew a shaky breath, a flash of pain shadowing his features for a moment. Kurt wanted to reach for him and kiss it away, but he knew it wasn't his place – not anymore, probably not ever again. And he only had himself to blame.

"You broke my heart." It was barely more than a whisper, but it was filled with so much hurt that the tight clench of Kurt's throat came back with a vengeance.

"I know. And I'm so very, very sorry. There's not a day I don't hate myself for it."

Blaine shook his head sharply. "Don't. I love you too much to let you hate yourself."

There was not enough air in the room all of a sudden. "You... do? Still?"

Blaine shrugged, a shadow of a smile appearing. "Of course. Did you think I could just stop? I _can't_. And believe me, there were moments when I really wanted to. It doesn't work that way."

"I know."

The world was getting blurry and Kurt didn't even care anymore when the tears finally overflowed and ran, silent and warm, down his face. They sat in silence for a while, until Blaine spoke again.

"For a long time, I kept hoping you'd call me. Why didn't you call me? Why are you only telling me now?"

Kurt wiped at his face distractedly. "I wanted to. Dozens of times, I sat with the phone in my hand, fighting with myself. I deleted your number eventually, because it was too tempting. You asked me not to make it harder for you, to stay away, so I wasn't going to go against that."

"I did?" Blaine looked honestly surprised. "I don't really remember what I said back then. I was a bit... overwhelmed. That explains a lot, though." He took a deep, shaky breath. "So when did you decide you wanted to tell me after all? When did you realize that– um–" He paused, as if afraid saying it out loud would somehow break the spell.

Kurt wanted to look away, suddenly shy, but couldn't.

"I regretted not telling you I loved you the second you closed the door behind you last summer. But I was too afraid to act on it. After James, and a few others before him... I thought I'd rather be lonely than hurt like that ever again."

"So what changed?" Those big golden eyes were so warm and curious, mesmerizing.

"I've tasted life without you. And I hated it. I still hate it. I ended up lonely _and_ heartbroken. I guess it serves me right for being a coward."

His voice broke a little on the last word and oh, here were the tears again. Fuck, was he turning back into his teenage self? He'd long learned how to control the waterworks and yet –

But then Blaine touched his hand; just a fleeting brush of warm fingers, his face so focused and solemn, and Kurt shivered. This was the moment of truth, wasn't it? This was where Blaine would tell him he'd waited too long, that it was over.

"Kurt, no one can swear a relationship will last forever – _you _can't swear it yourself. People and circumstances change sometimes, even I am aware of that."

"I know." Rationally, he'd always known. But his heart had refused to accept anything less, before.

"So if you want a promise of _till death do us part_, _no matter what happens_, I can't give you what you need. I can only promise to love you and cherish you, and do everything in my power for this relationship to work."

Kurt gasped. He must have misunderstood.

"You... you'd consider trying again?"

Blaine shook his head and clarified. "Not _trying_. Trying isn't enough. Being together? Yes, I would. But I need you to be certain, Kurt. I need to know you're in it for better or worse this time; that you're sure it's worth the risk. That _I'm_ worth the risk."

"Of course." It was understandable.

"So take your time, take as long as you need and if you decide it's something you want, you know where to find me. If you decide otherwise –"

Kurt interrupted him. "I don't need time, Bee. I can't be any more certain."

Eyes starting to sparkle, smile slowly growing, Blaine still sounded cautious though.

"Aren't you... dating anyone right now?"

"I haven't dated anyone in over six months."

"I have." _Ouch_. Well hello, jealousy. "I'm not now, though. But I'd be willing to. If you were ready to be with me, that is."

Heart pounding, Kurt finally allowed himself to reach over the tabletop and cover Blaine's hand with his own.

"_So_ ready." He could say it properly now; the way it should be said. "I love you."

"I love you too."

For a moment, they just grinned at each other, eyes bright and hearts overflowing. Then Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and asked, a little breathless.

"Now what?"

"Now... how about we go to the bedroom?"

* * *

They held hands, walking the few paces to the room. Kurt's face was all joy and disbelief, his eyes darkened and wide, and Blaine was pretty sure he knew what Kurt expected would happen.

Well, it wouldn't. They had time, now. Blaine had been accepted to study music at NYU, so he wasn't going anywhere. His parents no longer had a say in his life choices, and Cooper was eager to see them back together, judging by his less than subtle remarks. There was no reason to either hide or rush anything this time. And while the sex had been amazing back in summer, there were things Blaine had missed a lot more than that.

He sat down on the bed the moment they reached it, and scooted back towards the middle of it, tugging at Kurt's hand for him to follow.

"What do you want me to do, Bee?" Kurt's voice was warm and low, dark tones betraying his arousal.

"Just... hold me."

And just like that, hunger melted into tenderness and Kurt was right there, climbing on the bed, lying down, pulling Blaine with him, and _god, he'd missed it so much_. It was as if he'd been covered with a thin layer of ice, as if he'd frozen to the bone in the long months since they'd broken up. He hadn't been touched for _so_ long – really touched, with love and care, and not just sexual intent. Now with every touch of Kurt's hands stroking his back, his arms, every hot breath tickling the skin of his neck, Blaine felt like his body was thawing, getting warm at last. Only then did he realize just how cold he'd been, and how painful it'd felt.

Eyes closed, he sought out Kurt's lips blindly, and _oh_, it felt like coming home. He'd had his share of dates after he'd moved to New York; there'd been kisses and make-out sessions, some quite heated, even. There'd been more, a few times. But no one had ever felt the way Kurt did, so perfectly right, like they were two puzzle pieces, made for each other.

Time disappeared. The outside world went away, forgotten. Their coffee grew cold; the light outside changed and then dimmed, and still they were kissing – just kissing, slow and luxurious, until their lips were swollen and raw, until they remembered every tiny detail, until every hurt and every tear was apologized for and forgiven. And then they kissed some more. Pressed together, both of them aching and yearning and wanting, but it didn't matter.

They had all the time in the world.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

Life was _amazing_.

As the days passed, Kurt felt the deep, calming sense of happiness settle over him. He loved waking up every day to Blaine's _good morning_ texts – and yes, he'd returned to a normal day schedule; or at least what was normal for him. He loved that Blaine usually came over right after school. If Kurt was working, he just dropped by the studio with a quick kiss (and sometimes a little gift – some flowers, a box of fresh strawberries, a cup of coffee), and then went to practice on the piano for an hour or two. Now that he'd been accepted into the music program, he could no longer let himself slack off and only play every now and then, so the fact the two of them had gotten back together saved Cooper from some major remodeling and piano purchase expenses.

(Once, Kurt joked Blaine only wanted him back for the access to his piano. Blaine pouted. Kurt kissed the pout away.)

In the evenings they usually made dinner together or went out to eat, sometimes with Cooper or even Sebastian, but mostly alone. Their relationship was still too fresh to want to share their time with anyone else, and Kurt loved how every night felt like a date. They'd go to see a movie, or a show on Broadway sometimes; they'd take long walks through the city or hide on the roof of Kurt's apartment building to stargaze – as much as was possible with all the city lights around – and talk and kiss until they were breathless. Some evenings they stayed inside and just watched TV or cuddled on the couch, busy being happy and in love.

Somewhere between ten and midnight, Blaine always went home for the night, and there were proper goodnight kisses and promises of tomorrow, and sometimes shy mentions about maybe, one day soon, Blaine staying overnight.

It wasn't like they were denying themselves completely or joining a celibacy club. It just felt right, somehow, to take their time now when their relationship last year had been so frantic and rushed. They kissed and touched a lot, rediscovering the joy of being so close again, but the pace of their physical relationship was more like it might have been in high school than anything Kurt had ever experienced. And since he'd never had a boyfriend in high school – the delicious frustration of _never enough_, the teasing and tempting, and the restrictions of school days and curfew for Blaine were new and strangely exciting.

They finally slept together – actually slept, the night after Blaine's graduation: spooning, with their underwear on – before they even got off together once. Not _much_ before, considering they woke up to the _summer freedom_ and _together_ and _want_, but still. From there, it still took about a month to get to the point where hands and lips and tongues had full, unrestricted access. By this point Blaine stayed at Kurt's roughly every other night, since there were no early morning classes to worry about.

It was one such night in early July, as they lay in bed tangled loosely together, not quite sleeping, but too lazy and relaxed to move, when Blaine asked casually, curiosity coloring his voice.

"Kurt, do you ever, um... bottom?"

And Kurt knew it was a simple request for information, because this was what they did now. They talked, they asked, they were honest and open. Never assuming, never hiding stuff just because they thought the other might disapprove of something. This was part of their unwritten promise to each other.

So he tried to answer in a neutral tone, he really did, but the way they were laying was suddenly anything but innocent, Blaine's bare skin hot and so close, and Kurt's breath hitched a little.

"I used to, a lot. Though sadly not for years now."

"Why?" Blaine nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck, his breath tickling the question over sensitive skin.

"Because it's something I could never do unless I trusted the other person absolutely. And trust is kind of out of the equation when you only have occasional sex with strangers."

He waited for the inevitable question – why he'd never even mentioned it last summer, what it said about his trust in Blaine. But it didn't come. Instead, Blaine said softly, after a pause.

"Kurt?", and when Kurt hummed in response, "Can I finger you?"

* * *

Blaine had done this – only to himself, but still – plenty of times, so he was mostly prepared for the tightness and the heat, and the way Kurt's walls clenched around his fingers. What he wasn't prepared for was how quickly and perfectly Kurt opened up for him, asking for the third finger on a broken moan mere minutes after they started; or how stunningly undone he looked and sounded.

Having Kurt out of control, a blabbering mess, was not exactly new, though Blaine was certain it would never _not_ get to him on a cellular level. But this was more – this was having his older, so much more experienced boyfriend thrashing in the sheets, arching and sweaty and flushed pink, with just the slow, controlled movements of Blaine's fingers. This was having Kurt chant Blaine's name like a spell, and beg like he'd never heard him beg before. It was intoxicating. And so very, _very _hot.

"Fuck, Blaine, I... need more, need... Fuck _please_, Bee, pleaseplease_please –_"

With a confidence that was new and exhilarating, Blaine skimmed his free hand along Kurt's leaking cock, eliciting a whimper as Kurt pushed harder onto his fingers.

"Tell me what you want."

"You, inside. Want to... to ride you _ohgodyesthere _–" Blaine's fingers twitched at the mental image, grazing just right, apparently, and then he pulled out. Kurt whined at the loss, but Blaine was already away, reaching to the bedside drawer where he knew there were condoms.

Kurt's brain caught up when Blaine opened the little packet.

"You _want _me to? Really?"

His voice was high and so breathless, his eyes wide. Blaine managed to pull on the condom, moaning as he stroked himself, his hands only slightly shaky.

"_God_ _yes_."

The speed with which Kurt pushed him down on his back and straddled him, pressing him into the mattress as he kissed him fervently, melted away any anxiety Blaine might have felt. And then Kurt was up on his knees, dripping lubricant from the little bottle all over Blaine's cock with an impatient whine before positioning himself and –

Sinking _down_. In one slow, unbroken movement, with his eyes squeezed shut and his lips parted in pleasure, a low, raw sound vibrating all through him. He was panting softly when he bottomed out and paused, looking so enraptured and hungry for it, his pupils full-blown and dark red patches high on his cheeks, that Blaine had to bite his lip, hard, to stop himself from coming on the spot.

Because, it turned out, what felt wonderfully hot and tight around his fingers was simply indescribable around his cock.

"Oh god, I missed this so much." Kurt rolled his hips gently and moaned.

Blaine gasped as sparks of pleasure shot up and out, the tingling reaching as far as his fingertips. He wanted to make it perfect for Kurt, wanted to give him everything, for as long as he wanted, but already he felt overwhelmed with the sensations. And when Kurt started a slow, fluid rhythm, Blaine could only warn between the moans.

"Kurt... don't hold back. I... god, it won't last long."

It was embarrassing, but Kurt only laughed breathlessly.

"Oh, I'm sure it won't. It's been _years_, Bee, I can't–" The rest was lost in a helpless keen as Kurt snapped his hips down harder.

It didn't last long, indeed, but the few minutes were filled with such perfection – sensations, pictures and sounds – that it could easily fill hours. Blaine tumbled over the edge the second he felt Kurt clench around him with a broken cry. Fighting to keep his eyes open through his own orgasm, unwilling to lose a second of the spectacle that was Kurt coming all over his hand and stomach, Blaine suddenly understood why this was such a big deal.

He'd never felt so _close_ to anyone before.

* * *

That night brought an obvious question back into Blaine's focus and the desire – want – _need _that had haunted him for weeks last summer came back with a vengeance. He didn't bring the topic up yet, though, because the next two weeks were busy for both of them. Kurt was finishing up a small collection for _La Nuit,_ barely leaving his sewing room for days before he went to Boston to oversee the rest of the process. Blaine, in the meantime, was searching for a job.

Cooper had offered to pay for his freshman year of college so that he could focus on studying, and they'd agreed that Blaine would contribute half of the tuition in the following years, be it through scholarships, work or a student loan. It was stunningly generous of his brother and Blaine protested at first, but Cooper just told him to shut up and let him support his little brother for once. Still, Blaine wanted at least a semi-permanent job to have money of his own and be able to help with the bills sometimes. He was not a child anymore, after all.

He ended up going back to _The Tipsy Hippo_ for two nights a week for now and, through Sebastian's recommendation, he was set to become a piano tutor for a few kids come September.

Then Kurt came back from Boston and nothing else seemed important anymore. It felt a little insane, to miss each other quite so much when they were only apart for 104 hours (and 23 minutes, not that Blaine had been counting), but there wasn't time to question it as they fell into each other's arms, not ready to resurface for hours.

Two days later, Kurt brought up the subject of the purple dildo.

Blaine hadn't actually used it since the afternoon Kurt had seen him – the day they'd gotten back together – and the thought of doing so with Kurt actually _there _this time made his head spin and his heart pound with anticipation. He brought the toy over the next day.

And _oh yes_, having Kurt control the angle and speed of it while Blaine knelt on the bed, holding on to the rungs of the headboard and feeling completely, utterly exposed with his ass up in the air and his voice already rough from the sounds he couldn't control, was possibly the most intense thing he'd ever felt.

At least, until Kurt let go of the toy, leaving it sheathed deep inside, only to draw his fingertip slowly over the stretched rim around it.

"God, look at you. So beautiful and open, taking it so perfectly. I wonder if –"

Before he had a chance to finish, the raw, pure _need _slammed into Blaine full force and there was no way he could stop thinking about it now – about Kurt's cock sliding in place of the toy, filling him even further, fulfilling the fantasy he'd gotten himself off to countless times, never actually believing it would come true.

Well, it could now. At least he hoped so.

"Please, take me."

He barely recognized his own voice, strained and breathless, and the few seconds before Kurt reached towards the bedside drawer felt like eternity. The sound of the foil crinkling, Kurt's quiet gasp as he stroked the condom on, the click of the lube bottle – it all came in slow motion to the accompaniment of Blaine's own racing heart.

"Are you sure?"

Of course Kurt would ask, but really, what a silly question. He just moaned desperately and Kurt hummed and reached for the toy again. He moved it a few more times, changing the angle so that Blaine felt it stretch him even more, but then it was gone and the emptiness it left was unbearable, demanding to be filled again.

And then the head of Kurt's cock was there, pushing slow, but insistent against the slight resistance of the muscles, and Blaine relaxed completely for the intrusion that couldn't be more welcome. A tiny shift, a bit of give and Kurt slid in, just the head, and Blaine cried out roughly. _Fuck_, it hurt for a moment – nothing he didn't expect, that bright flash of _too much_ he knew from the first few times with the dildo that melted away within seconds, leaving the feeling of almost unbearable stretch that he loved so much. Kurt stilled and waited, stroking Blaine's back until his breathing went back to normal. Then he inched slowly further, and the tiny part of Blaine's brain that wasn't fully focused on the _full – perfect – Kurt _registered the helpless little whimpers Kurt was letting out behind him.

And then he paused, entirely too soon, only to whisper "Come here" and tug gently at Blaine's shoulder. Not sure what he meant, barely able to move, let alone think through the intensity of it, Blaine simply obeyed. He let himself be pulled up and back until he was kneeling between Kurt's knees, Kurt's cock still inside and shifting minutely with every movement, and _oh_, it made sense. Leaning against Kurt's chest, he settled down into Kurt's lap, the rest of his length sliding in and filling him perfectly while strong arms supported and embraced him.

For a moment, Blaine just stayed like that, motionless, trying to figure out how to breathe and where he ended and Kurt began, and deciding it didn't matter in the slightest, and then he shifted his hips experimentally.

And to think he was so sure he knew _intense_.

Once he moved, he was unable to stop – fumbling a little at first, a bit ungainly, but Kurt's arms were there, steadying and guiding him, snug around his chest and his hips. Soon he felt Kurt thrust his hips forward to meet every one of Blaine's slides and it couldn't be more perfect. He felt loved and cared for and _fucked_ at the same time. He pushed faster, causing Kurt's hips to snap up harder as he caught the intention immediately.

He saw sparks behind his closed eyelids when Kurt changed his angle a little, thrusting even deeper, and god, Blaine was so close already. Still, he managed to find his voice somehow.

"What does it do to you, to know that you are my first? That no one else has ever been so close to me, maybe no one ever will?" he rasped, and Kurt was done for. With a helpless keen, he pushed harder, faster, just right, and Blaine lost all words. A moment later he lost all coherent thoughts, too, lost his breath and his hold on reality.

He knew Kurt's hand closed around his cock at some point; he knew his throat was dry and raw from the sounds he'd never made before as he slumped further back against Kurt, his muscles no longer able to support him. The last few perfect, sharp thrusts and the world shattered into a shower of pleasure so bright it was blinding.

Coming down slowly, right into the haze of sleep, Blaine could only repeat _I love you, I love you so much_ over and over again, like a mantra. And the best thing was that Kurt was right there, holding him, his eyes so bright and happy as he answered solemnly, "I love you too."

* * *

Blaine was asleep by the time Kurt sneaked out to the bathroom for a soft flannel, and he didn't stir at all during the gentle clean-up. Kurt turned off the little lamp and slid into the bed where he settled against Blaine's back, holding him tightly.

And then he cried.

He cried for all the time he'd lost because of his fear, and all the men he shared this experience with when it didn't mean anything at all. For how perfect it felt to make love to Blaine, and how he never wanted to be this close to anyone else, ever again.

He cried because this was _it_, this was his perfect man, the one he wanted to share his whole life with, which he somehow came to know without a shadow of a doubt.

He cried, because so many things could have gone wrong and stopped them from being together, or even meeting at all. He cried because he was so happy, and so grateful that despite his stupid stubbornness and his mistakes, he'd been given a second chance.

Tears still clinging wetly to his lashes, Kurt finally fell asleep with a serene smile.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

Summer came to an end. There was Blaine's birthday – much less dramatic and more enjoyable this year, without impending goodbyes or inappropriate presents or, well, breaking up – and then school started, causing Kurt's anxiety to stir.

But every single day after classes, fresh from meeting new, interesting people, making friends and conquering the world, Blaine came back to him. He was bouncy and affectionate, eager to spend their time together, to talk and play new things for Kurt, to tell him all about his day and to have crazy amounts of sex.

Nope, he didn't seem bored with his decade older boyfriend at all.

In fact, they still couldn't get enough of each other, stealing away every free moment they could spare (and some they really shouldn't) to be together – so much so that all too often it was late at night before they realized that Blaine should probably go home. Nine times out of ten, it ended with him simply staying the night anyway. He had enough of his things at Kurt's now that it wasn't a problem, and obviously, neither of them minded.

Eventually, at the beginning of November, during a Saturday brunch, Cooper grumbled.

"Why don't you two just move in together? This is the first time I've seen Blaine all week, and he's supposed to live with me."

There was no anger in Coop's voice, just teasing, but the question sounded earnest enough and Kurt gaped at him, stunned.

"Wait, are you serious? You wouldn't mind?"

Coop chuckled and grinned in this cute way that made his face all scrunchy. He'd done that a lot in the last two months, mostly due to one adorable redhead junior analyst from his company.

"Well I hadn't planned for him to move out quite so soon but since he basically lives with you now anyway... It would just be a formality at this point. And I'd finally be able to stop worrying he'll come home at the worst possible moment when Melissa's over. Really, getting dressed every time either of us wants to go grab some water or whipped cream or whatever gets pretty tedious lately."

Since Kurt was busy rolling his eyes, Cooper turned to Blaine.

"Not that I'm kicking you out, Bee. You can stay if you want and it'll always be home, no matter what, but in case you two were interested in having the same address, you have my blessing. That's all I'm saying."

Blaine's mouth was half-open at this point, but his eyes were already sparkling with child-like enthusiasm as he looked over at Kurt, who grinned.

"So what do you say? Will you move in with me? I should warn you I'm really snappy when I'm overworked or frustrated, and I can get distant when inspiration hits me, but you already know all that. So it's your call. I'd be happy to live with you."

He'd be more than happy, in fact – it would be a dream come true. His apartment seemed empty whenever Blaine went home, quiet in an unwelcome way, and Blaine's belongings, though numerous, always looked out of place there, like guests. Having Blaine move in would feel like moving a puzzle piece into its proper place.

But then Kurt realized something and added, "Of course, I can't exactly provide you with your own room –"

Blaine laughed brightly.

"Oh, I think I'll survive. It's never been a problem so far, has it? You'll just grant me some closet space (Kurt groaned) and a few shelves for my books, and let's see, I can sleep with you."

"Oversharing!" Cooper yelled, covering his ears, and they all laughed.

"So is that a _yes_?" Kurt bounced a little, as much as it was possible to bounce in a deep, overstuffed armchair.

"Yes, I'll move in with you." Blaine's grin was blinding. "How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow sounds awfully far away, but I'll take it. Seeing how I need to gut my closet tonight and all."

Who knew he'd ever feel happy about the prospect of having less space for his clothes?

* * *

Kurt's only experiences of living with anyone apart from his family were a female friend back in freshman year of college and later, James. While both of them had a lot of good moments, he remembered the beginnings as a challenging adjustment. James had been a bit of a slob, leaving his clothes everywhere and always forgetting to close the toilet lid, while Rachel, an early bird, had proven physically unable not to sing during her extensive morning routine. There'd been lots of tiny conflicts, negotiating boundaries and rules for weeks before living under one roof had become easy, and then even nice.

Kurt was fully prepared for the same this time.

So he was stunned to see that with Blaine, nothing like that actually happened. Blaine knew not to expect coherency from Kurt before his first cup of coffee and never touched Kurt's half of the closet, respecting the elaborate system Kurt kept there. He was easy to live with, they didn't get on each other's nerves and if there was a problem, they simply talked it out. They joined their lives smoothly and seamlessly, a process as easy as intertwining their fingers whenever they were walking together, and for Kurt, this was another sign that they were meant for each other.

The quiet, effortless happiness of everyday life with another person was something he'd never fully experienced and he hoped it would never end. It felt like home.

* * *

They'd been together for seven months when Kurt decided it was time Blaine got introduced to his family, and Christmas was the perfect occasion. The Andersons were away on a Caribbean cruise, and Cooper's girlfriend of a few months had invited him to her home for Christmas. Blaine knew Coop only said no because of him, and he felt bad about it. He liked Melissa. She and Cooper were so sweet together that Blaine constantly reminded himself to check for cavities, because really. Sweetness overload. So when Kurt mentioned that he'd love for Blaine to go home with him and meet his family, he didn't hesitate much.

Which might have been a mistake. Really, he should have thought about it better, because he only made it halfway through dinner on the first night before he had to excuse himself and flee upstairs. He ran into Kurt's old room where they were supposed to sleep, under the pretext of needing to take out his contacts.

Blaine didn't even wear contacts. He just desperately needed a few minutes by himself.

But maybe he should have actually gone and hidden in the bathroom instead of here. Because Kurt's room... Well, it was still _Kurt's room_, and that only felt like rubbing salt into the wound. Ten years since Kurt had moved away, and he still had his own space in his parents' house, a place to call his own. He had a home outside New York where he could always come and be welcomed with open arms, no questions asked.

Blaine's old bedroom had already been turned into a craft room, his mom told him.

Kurt had it all: the acceptance, the support, the unconditional love that every parent was supposed to give their children, or so Blaine heard. And it wasn't just Mr. Hummel (_It's Burt, kid_), which was at least understandable to Blaine, but Carole, too. Not even Kurt's actual mom, not someone who might for some reason feel obliged to love him, and who still so very clearly did.

Not that Blaine had any doubts concerning Kurt's lovability – god no, he knew first hand just how easy it was to love his boyfriend. And he wasn't exactly jealous, either. It was just... _family_. The kind of family Blaine only ever read and heard about: where no one had to constantly try to fit in, to be whoever they all wanted to see among them. Where every action didn't threaten to disappoint. Those were the only family dynamics Blaine had ever known and seeing Kurt's family so accepting and honest, so embracing, broke something deep within him.

Why couldn't his parents be like this? Why could they never have asked him with such sincere interest about his life and his opinions? Why had even his tiniest mistakes been harshly critiqued and recalled forever, while other people could clearly try and fail and find their way before they succeeded, safe in the knowledge that they'd be loved no matter what?

Why couldn't he have a family like Kurt's?

He heard footsteps on the stairs and quickly wiped at his wet eyes, getting ready to apologize to Kurt for behaving like a hermit on his first day here. But it wasn't Kurt. The half-closed door opened to reveal Mr. Hummel.

No, _Burt_.

Great, not only was Kurt surely disappointed with him, but his family must have thought Blaine had absolutely no manners. They probably wondered why Kurt even dated him at all. Would he get a lecture about his behavior now? Or would it be an interrogation to determine if he qualified to be Kurt's boyfriend? Sure, both Burt and Carole had been really nice when they welcomed them earlier, but that must have been for Kurt's sake. Oh god, what if they told him to go back to New York?

Within seconds, Blaine had wound himself up so tightly that when Burt sat down by his side on the bed, a little squeak escaped his throat. He felt a firm, heavy hand on his shoulder and tensed, barely daring to look into the man's eyes, but when he did, he found no anger or disappointment there, just kind inquiry. Burt smiled and took his hand away, and it was weird, but Blaine missed the comforting weight already.

"Hey, kid, you can relax, you know? No one's going to judge you here. We're not that scary, are we?"

Blaine quickly shook his head, but even to himself it didn't seem convincing, and Burt chuckled.

"You know what? Once, I'd have been somewhat glad to know that Kurt's dates were a bit afraid of me. But now –" Burt's eyes, while still kind, grew serious as he turned to face Blaine fully. "You love my son, don't you?"

Well, that was the easiest question in the world. "Yes, sir."

"Stop with the sir, kid," Burt commanded and Blaine bit his tongue to stop the automatic response of yet another _Yes, sir_. Burt smiled. "I can see how much you care about him, the way you look at him. And he loves you with all his heart, it's clear as day. I haven't seen my boy so happy in many, many years, Blaine, and it's your doing. Believe me, there's no better recommendation than that. I admit I had my doubts when I learned how young you are, but honestly, age is just a number. I only care if you're good for each other, and you seem to be, so you have my wholehearted blessing."

Blaine realized he was staring, his eyes stinging again, so he quickly blinked a few times to keep the fresh tears at bay. Burt was still looking at him with that solemn but kind expression, so Blaine cleared his throat to respond.

"Thank you, s– I mean, Burt."

"Kurt told me about your family, you know." Something dark and cloudy flew across Burt's features momentarily, and then disappeared. "It's not my place to judge – god knows I'm aware how hard it is to be a parent sometimes. But I just want you to know that no matter what, you have family here, with us."

Blaine's expression probably reflected the stunned disbelief he felt. He must have misunderstood. He was just Kurt's boyfriend, and not even for a year now, how–

Burt laughed, bright and warm.

"Blaine, you may be a decade younger than Kurt, but if I know my son, and I dare say I do, I'm sure he'll bring you here one day as his husband. And we'll be happy when he does. So really, there's no use waiting a few years to adopt you into the family, is there?"

Burt grinned a wide, slightly mischievous smile, so similar to Kurt's.

"Now come on, let's go back before Kurt thinks I'm interrogating you and comes to the rescue."

* * *

Christmas with Kurt's family was unlike any Blaine had ever experienced – in the best of ways.

There were small, thoughtful gifts for everyone instead of piles of generic, expensive presents his parents were known for. Colorful lights and mismatched Christmas decorations that his father would surely call tacky were everywhere, some clearly made by children's hands, long ago. The food was plentiful, so much more than just one formal dinner, and the whole house smelled of baking.

The first morning, Carole used the fact that Blaine was up before Kurt to request his help in the kitchen, and soon they were decorating cookies together, drinking hot chocolate and chatting happily. There was no rule about eating anywhere but the dining room, like in the Anderson house, and everyone seemed to just graze on yummy things whenever they felt like it.

_Everyone_ consisted of the four of them plus Kurt's step-brother Finn, who arrived from California on Christmas Eve with his wife Anabelle and his 13-year-old daughter, Drizzle. (_High school pregnancy, _Finn explained, nonplussed, when he noticed Blaine doing math in his head with his eyes big as saucers. _Kind of a long story. The best mistake of my life._) It was crowded and loud, everyone talking constantly, and it was impossible to find a quiet corner.

Blaine loved it with all his heart.

It felt like home.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

Time passed. They were still together and happy. But it didn't mean they didn't have their share of problems and conflicts, just like anyone else.

The age gap alone was basis for some pretty awful situations early on.

When Blaine mentioned that he lived with his 29-year-old boyfriend his freshman year, some people started looking at him funny. Mostly they just seemed shocked, but some looked almost disgusted. When someone recognized Kurt's name and blabbered all around that Blaine was sleeping with a fashion designer, he heard whispers about him having a sugar daddy more than once. It stung, not because there was any amount of truth in it, but because he'd considered some of those people his new friends. Still, in the end he just shrugged it off and decided he needed to choose friends better.

So when the vicious article about _Kurt Hummel's barely legal lover_ came out after he accompanied Kurt to one of the bigger fashion events, stirring heated discussions among gossip-mongers, Blaine was already seasoned with the age stuff. He could calmly comfort Kurt, pull him away from the internet and patiently remind him that he was more than legal and not just his lover, and really, one stupid reporter could just stuff it. In the end, like most of the gutter press "breaking news", it went away pretty fast.

* * *

Then one day in his sophomore year, when Kurt went to Boston, Blaine found a thick white folder on the coffee table. He opened it out of curiosity, and his heart sank. It was Kurt's wedding book, almost four years old. Everything planned out and beautiful, pictures and locations, menus, guest lists, color schemes and dried flowers. There was even a picture of Kurt with James – a tall, sandy-haired hunk with a mischievous smile. They stood together and looked _so happy_...

Clearly, Kurt had been going through the folder, remembering, maybe regretting what he no longer had. Did he miss this guy? Was Blaine not good enough?

He didn't mention it when they talked on the phone that evening, and he finished the call early, saying he was tired.

But when Kurt came back the next day, he only needed one glance to know Blaine was a wreck. Another glance at the coffee table, where the wedding folder still lay, and his eyes flashed with understanding. He sat on the sofa next to Blaine and took his hand.

"You've been going through this old thing and thinking too much, haven't you?" When Blaine just shrugged dejectedly, Kurt sighed and squeezed his hand. "Hey, look at me. Let me explain before you assume anything, okay? I took it out from the back of the closet because I've been looking for a sketch I'd put there. My tux – I'd planned it to perfection, but never got to make it because it was too extravagant for James's taste. He somehow convinced me to go with one off the rack – classy, of course. But still."

Blaine looked at him for the first time then, incredulous, and Kurt chuckled.

"Yeah, I know. I gave the thing away long ago. Must have made some guy happy. Anyway, I remembered my design when I was thinking about the evening collection we're working on, so I was looking for the drawings in a hurry just before I went. Hence the folder. I actually discovered just how much my taste had changed in the process, so this all goes in the trash. And it's all in the past, Bee. It's a relationship that was nice while it lasted and that I learned a lot from, but it's in the past and I don't regret it. I'm with you now and I love you, and I'm so happy, in ways I've never been with anyone before, and just... please. Don't ever doubt that."

It felt like a huge boulder being lifted from Blaine's heart. God, he'd been silly. There was a reason assuming was never a good idea.

* * *

Then, right after his 30th birthday, Kurt decided he was too old for him. Blaine came home from classes one day to find Kurt sitting on the floor in their bedroom, looking so miserable he thought something terrible must have happened. But when Kurt actually spoke...

"You should leave me for someone younger, you know. When you're my age now, I'll be 40, Bee. _Forty_! I'll be old and wrinkly and unable to keep up with you sexually, surely you don't want that in a boyfriend. And... hey, it's not funny!"

Blaine laughed so hard he cried, and then tackled Kurt to the floor and proceeded to show him in very thorough ways how much he didn't care about his senile status.

* * *

The deepest crisis came at the beginning of summer after Blaine's sophomore year.

He was exhausted and stressed after weeks of exams and performances, and Kurt barely had time for him, busy with a huge fashion show where he was presenting his own label for the first time. And when Blaine was finally, blissfully free for the summer, they had a major fight.

Blaine wasn't even sure where it all came from. Okay, it must have had something to do with his friends talking about their summer plans earlier that night, when they were all at the bar, celebrating being done with final exams. All the talk about travelling and meeting new people, about new experiences, cute girls and guys waiting out there to be met...

And there he was, barely 20 and all domesticated, feeling like part of an old married couple.

Suddenly the thought that he would never feel the thrill of a budding love again, never kiss anyone new or see what it was like to have sex with someone who wasn't Kurt felt like a prison. And it was a bad night for Kurt to come home frustrated and snappy, because a tiny argument snowballed into a massive fight where Blaine said a lot of things he didn't really mean, and for the first time since they'd moved in together, he ended up sleeping on Cooper and Melissa's couch.

He came home early the next morning, feeling like an idiot and ready to apologize with a breakfast served in bed, flowers and love songs, only to find Kurt sitting at the kitchen table in yesterday's clothes, tired but calm, with coffee and a stack of sketches, a pencil behind his ear.

"I want you to go away for a bit." Kurt said in lieu of a greeting, and pushed the papers away, focusing all his attention on Blaine.

But... he must have misheard. "What?"

"I want you to take some time away, to travel – wherever you want, Europe maybe? Anywhere." Kurt's voice was rough from sleeplessness, but steady. "Take however long you need, a month, two, no matter the cost; it's my early birthday gift to you. And while you're there, I... I want you to do what you want. Meet other people, flirt with them, kiss them, dance with them, s-sleep with them. Whatever you need, as long as you keep safe."

There was an invisible hand tightening around Blaine's throat, making it ever harder to breathe. "Kurt... are you breaking up with me?"

Kurt's smile was soft, his expression filled with so much love it hurt.

"No, honey. I just don't want you to feel like you've missed out on anything because you met me so young. I love you more than anything and I've been in enough relationships to know you're it for me. But you haven't had that chance. So I'm giving it to you because I love you and I know that if it's meant to be, you'll come back when you're sure I'm what you want. In the meantime, go. Figure it out, taste freedom. I'll be here when you come back."

After a few days of doubts and discussions where his rather feeble arguments were all shot down, Blaine went.

He spent five weeks in Europe, camping – something he'd always wanted to try. He travelled alone, choosing his destinations as he went, meeting new people and experiencing cultures he'd never known. He texted Kurt every day to let him know he was fine. He saw plenty, tried a lot of new things, did some soul searching and understood more than he'd believed possible.

There were nights when he went to clubs and danced till morning, and others when he talked by the fire with interesting strangers, or flirted at bars. He discovered that he could buy alcohol, because in most countries eighteen was the legal age. He was always smart though, no stupid risks, and the few times the situation actually progressed beyond talking and flirting and into making out, he caught himself getting distracted because it didn't feel that good at all. The one hasty handjob he let himself be talked into, in the bathroom of a gay club in Holland, left him feeling a little disgusted and not really interested in trying again. It was all fine, but there was no heart there, no love.

When he came back to New York and into Kurt's waiting arms at the end of July, he knew.

He proposed not a month later.

* * *

It was on the night of his 21st birthday. They'd just come home after an evening of celebration – with _alcohol_, which _Blaine_ could buy this time and it made him feel ridiculously proud.

He'd planned to wait until he was in the bedroom with Kurt, maybe kissing, with less clothes on – or at least their suit jackets off – but his giddiness at the thought of what he wanted to do was difficult enough to contain all day. He couldn't keep it in any longer. The kitchen was a good place too, right?

He wound his arms around Kurt's waist and pressed against his back with his chin hooked over Kurt's shoulder. He could feel the little box against his hip under the jacket, an exciting reminder.

"I don't want to sound greedy, but I'd really like to ask you for one more gift tonight. Something very special, that only you in the entire world can give me."

Kurt's laugh was bright and soft, like a silver bell. "I'm not sure if it's so special, with the frequency we do it, but of course, baby. There will be sex, just let me get some water first."

"That's not what I meant." Something in his voice must have betrayed the awed anticipation he felt because Kurt turned in his arms, his eyes curious, one eyebrow arched.

"So what _did_ you mean?"

"I meant..." Blaine let go of him and lowered himself to his knee, the ring box already in his hand. Kurt's eyes grew wide, his face disbelieving. "Kurt, it would make me the happiest man on earth if you said _yes_. Will you marry me?"

It took a moment before he got his answer, but between Kurt's tear-filled eyes, his hand covering his mouth and the frantic nodding, he figured he didn't have to panic. Kurt's voice was trembling when he finally spoke.

"Oh my god, _yes_. Yes, Blaine, of course I'll marry you. I'm sorry, I just... I can't believe –" The last words were whispered against Blaine's neck, their hold on each other tight and desperate.

Blaine chuckled lightly, the joy and relief making him lightheaded. He pulled away slightly to kiss the tip of Kurt's nose.

"What, you've never thought about us getting married?"

"No, I just..." Kurt sniffled, still overwhelmed. "I haven't thought I'd ever be proposed _to_ and... I love you, Blaine. So much."

"I love you too, my future husband."


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

The date had been set (early June, four years to the day since they'd first met), the preparations were slowly being made. One day in February, over dinner, Blaine decided it was time to discuss one of the more significant issues.

"I want to take your name when we're married."

Kurt smiled at him over his fettuccine.

"Before or after yours?"

"Instead." This made Kurt stop eating, his brow furrowed.

"Oh Bee, you don't have to do that. We can do double surnames, it's not a problem. It's quite normal for artists to only use part of their name for work, so you don't have to –"

Blaine took his hand over the table and squeezed it.

"No, you don't understand. I _want_ to change my name after the wedding. I'm going to be your husband. Yours. Forever. I want my name to reflect that. In so many ways, I've grown to be a new person because I met you, Kurt, so I'd like that new person to have a new name, too. And I'm not terribly attached to Anderson, anyway. I already feel so much closer to your family than I've ever felt to mine."

He'd been thinking about it for months now. Well, not even thinking, really. He'd known that was what he wanted all along, he'd just been waiting to see if any doubts appeared at some point. There hadn't been any.

Kurt simply looked at him for a while, his eyes full of wonder. Finally, he spoke.

"Blaine Hummel. I like the sound of it."

* * *

On the last day of May, a week before the wedding, they got an unexpected visitor.

It was Kurt who opened the door, since Blaine was being ridiculous and singing loudly in the kitchen while baking cookies. Even though he'd never seen the woman before, Kurt only needed about two seconds to recognize who it was.

Blaine really did take after his mom.

"Hello. You must be Kurt."

She had a soft voice and a nice smile, but before Kurt managed to gather his bearings and answer with any degree of coherency, her attention snapped away from him as she looked towards the kitchen. Blaine was still making up some silly song about cookies and love, sung to the tune of _Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead_. Just then, he paused and called.

"Kurt? Who is it?"

Not waiting for an answer, he stepped out of the kitchen – and froze, his mouth half-open, an oven mitt in one hand and a streak of flour running across his cheek.

"Mom?"

Kurt watched from the doorway as they both moved forward to meet in a tight embrace in the middle of the living room. He could see tears in Blaine's eyes, and his heart clenched for his fiancé. Blaine hardly ever talked about his parents, and he hadn't seen them in person since he'd moved to New York. In fact, he only spoke with his mom on the phone or Skype about once a month. They'd sent an invitation for the wedding to Westerville, of course, but had gotten a prompt, impersonal response of "We are sorry to inform you that we won't be able to attend. Please accept our best wishes." And that was that.

Cooper had started smashing things in a rage when he heard about it, and when Melissa calmly, but firmly kicked him out of the kitchen, he'd called his father instead, to yell at him and swear that this would be the one and only wedding invitation he'd ever be getting from either of his sons, because Cooper was officially done with him.

Blaine had just been quietly heartbroken for weeks.

But now Mrs. Anderson was here, smiling at both of them as they settled in the living room with coffee and fresh cookies. She couldn't take her eyes off Blaine.

"Honey, I wish I could come to your wedding, but I can't, not without crossing your father," she started, her face apologetic. "And you have no idea how sorry I am about it. But I had to at least come see you now, meet my future son-in-law and make sure you know you have my blessing, old-fashioned as it sounds."

Blaine's eyes filled with tears but his smile was huge, if slightly shaky. She took his hand and squeezed it, offering comfort, and then turned to Kurt.

"Kurt. So good to finally put a face to the name. Now tell me all about you."

* * *

The afternoon was nice and in the evening Cooper showed up with Melissa to take them all to dinner, which was filled with family anecdotes and light banter. Kurt watched it all with a smile. There were so many similarities between those three – the lilt of a voice here, eyes crinkling in laughter there, the same hand gesture. He was happy to see Blaine so radiant and relaxed.

Kurt wished he could give his fiancé the world, but there were things he had no control over. He couldn't magically fix Blaine's relationship with his parents or convince his father that he really should stop being an asshole and support his son by, oh, maybe showing up at his wedding. And while Kurt's family had treated Blaine like their own for years now, it wasn't the same, even though it did mean a lot to both of them. So this show of support from Blaine's mom was more than welcome.

It turned out she didn't do things halfway, either. As they were waiting for dessert and coffee to arrive, Mrs. Anderson (Kurt knew her name was Callie, but she never told him to call her anything other than Mrs. Anderson) reached into her handbag and took out a small, dark green velvet box. Her smile suddenly shy, she pushed it across the table towards the two of them.

"I brought you something, a little gift from me. I've debated having them made into rings maybe, since they're of no use to you like this, but I thought I'd let you decide." She laughed nervously at their confused expressions. "Oh, just open it."

Blaine reached for the box, popped the lid open and gasped. Cooper leaned over to look and his jaw dropped, too.

"Aren't these–"

"_The_ diamond earrings, yes." She explained, mostly for Kurt's sake now. "They've been in my family for many generations now, and the tradition is the first child to marry gets them as a family heirloom. As I said, I can have them made into rings or something – but maybe... maybe you'd prefer to leave them as they are for your daughter to have one day? Or a daughter-in-law?"

And that was it for Kurt – more than any of her words before, this was the acknowledgement that she looked at their relationship just as she would if Blaine was straight. That she accepted they weregetting married, and there may be children one day, _their_ children. Her grandchildren, and they'd be just as important as they'd have been if Blaine had married a woman. This was the moment when a lot of the reservations Kurt still had towards his future mother-in-law melted away.

He looked at Blaine's tear-streaked face, his own vision blurry. He knew what he'd prefer, but the final word was his fiancé's.

"I think I like them better the way they are. I'm sure that one day there'll be someone to actually wear them."

Blaine looked at him for confirmation, and Kurt nodded, grinning.

* * *

They saw Mrs. Anderson to the airport early the next morning and after Cooper and Blaine said their goodbyes, Kurt extended his hand with a smile. She took it and pulled him into a tight, unexpected hug, long enough to whisper in his ear.

"You've made my baby happier than I've seen him since he was a child, Kurt. Thank you for that."

There was the tiniest hint of tears in her eyes when she pulled away, and Kurt just smiled at Blaine's questioning look, taking his hand.

He was going to spend his _life_ making sure that his Bee was as happy as possible.

* * *

The ceremony was private and quiet; just Kurt's family, Cooper and Melissa, and the closest friends of the couple: Sebastian (who was Kurt's best man and came by himself), Julian with his wife, a few of Blaine's college friends and his two best friends back from Dalton. It was classy, but without the lavishness Cooper remembered Kurt planning back when he was going to marry James.

They had Kurt's favorite restaurant – the one that had seen their first date – booked just for them for the simple wedding dinner afterwards, and in the evening the newlyweds were flying out for their honeymoon, which involved travelling Italy, France and Greece, starting with Venice.

Cooper couldn't take his eyes off Blaine as he stood beside him, listening to him recite his vows. He'd never seen his little brother so happy – literally radiant, eyes shining, every word filled with such conviction and love that no one could have any doubts: there was nowhere in the world he would rather be, now and forever, than here, by Kurt's side. Kurt, who looked at him like he was the best present he'd received from life – and who, Cooper knew, considered him as such.

As the newlyweds were trading rings, Cooper stole a glance to the side. Melissa was standing there with a camera, since their mom had asked for a recording of the ceremony. Kurt had jumped at the opportunity to have it filmed without involving hired photographers – even now that his name was increasingly well-known among fashion-conscious people and his designs were sought after, he remained a private person and the possibility of the recording or photos leaking out somewhere was out of the question. So instead, he talked to Melissa, who happened to be a photography enthusiast, and bought a camera she recommended.

She noticed Coop looking now and smiled brightly, her dimples showing. Cooper felt a surge of affection run through him. He had his own plans for that night, secret plans involving a diamond ring, and now more than ever, he felt hopeful that maybe he wouldn't screw it up after all. Maybe despite not having a proper role model in his own father, he'd manage to become a good husband. After all, Blaine was doing a stellar job so far.

It was a funny thing, to look up to his much younger brother and his best friend – a gay couple and not a typical one in any way – to learn about love and relationships. But if they were not perfect role models, he thought, watching them kiss for the first time as husbands, he didn't know who was.

* * *

After they came back from their honeymoon, Kurt and Blaine learned that a photo did leak out after all. Someone must have snapped a picture when they were walking to the car right after the wedding and stopped to kiss, unable to contain their happiness.

It showed their profiles against the New York skyline at dusk. They stood chest to chest, looking into each other's eyes, Kurt's hand, with his wedding band clearly visible, cupping Blaine's cheek. Their lips were just inches apart and there was so much love and tenderness in their expressions that despite the invasion of privacy, Kurt couldn't stop a smile when he saw it. It was a beautiful photo.

The fact that it was on the cover of _People_ magazine was less beautiful and more annoying. But the headline said _The cutest couple of the fashion industry_, and the cover story wasn't bad or too gossipy, so he shrugged it off. It wasn't like he could do much a month after publication. And it was an unavoidable part of making it in the business, after all.

He was still annoyed, though. At least until he found an email from a _Vogue_ representative in his mailbox, asking if they would consider posing for a photo spread together.

Showing off his gorgeous new husband in Vogue? Now that was an offer Kurt wouldn't reject.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** _Before you dive into this last piece of absolute fluff, I wanted to thank you for taking the time to read this story and comment on it. Please know that I love and appreciate all of your comments, even though it's hard to find time to both write AND respond regularly._

_Now that this crazy ride is almost over, I'm getting questions about a possible sequel, so I'll answer here: no, there are no plans for it. In my head, this story is complete. I may write a few drabbles in this 'verse, however, depending on time and inspiration. If it happens, they will be just some missing scenes, background moments and/or glimpses into the future. If you have any particular ideas for things you'd like to see, drop me a PM here or on tumblr, where I go by the same nickname. I don't promise anything, but if it tickles my Muse... _

_Thank you once more, you are wonderful! *hug*_

* * *

**CHAPTER 27**

Autumn came and life returned to its normal, mundane flow. And yet, being married still felt new and amazing. _Married_. They were husbands. Kurt and Blaine Hummel. Sometimes Kurt had to stop whatever he was doing and take a deep breath or pinch himself, he was so overwhelmed with the thought. Sometimes it still felt like a dream.

The only thing missing now was a child.

Of course, it was way too early for kids, assuming Blaine even wanted any at all – they hadn't had this conversation yet. He was barely twenty-two after all, probably not ready to think about it, and Kurt wasn't about to go and plant the question in his head now. It could lead to all sorts of trouble – he could say _no _and Kurt would get upset, which would lead to Blaine feeling guilty and maybe changing his mind before he was ready, and really, that wouldn't be good for anyone. No, it was better to wait a few years – and who knew, maybe the topic would surface on its own at some point.

Except it was torturously hard not to alert his husband to the baby fever that Kurt had suddenly developed. Babies in ads were making him teary-eyed! He only resisted peeking into strollers because it was New York. People were wary of such behaviors here.

So when Julian's wedding anniversary approached a few months later and he joked that the best gift would be the ability to take his wife out to dinner and a movie without worrying about their three little ones, the youngest of which was barely two months, Kurt had a serious dilemma. On one hand, he had plenty of experience with kids – or at least _a _kid – and he'd love to let his friends have some much-needed time alone. On the other, he knew it would only make the ache worse_._

In the end, he agreed and took Blaine who, it turned out, was eager to help. The kids were all asleep by the time they were left alone with them. Everything was quiet and peaceful – for about an hour, until the baby's pitiful mewl came from the crib in his parent's bedroom.

"I've got it." Kurt was on his feet in an instant. "Keep watching, I've seen this episode."

Teddy was lying in his crib with his blanket kicked off and tangled all around his chubby little legs. This might have been what woke him up and he seemed to be very unhappy about the fact, so Kurt untangled the blanket and tucked it carefully around him. Teddy was still crying, though. His diaper was dry, so Kurt tried talking to him quietly while stroking his downy hair, and then even humming a lullaby – it had always worked for Drizzle when she was a baby – but it didn't help at all.

Kurt took the baby out of the crib and held the warm bundle close to his chest, rocking him gently. Still, the wailing only grew more desperate, and the unhappiness in the little guy's voice was breaking Kurt's heart. He wanted to help, he really did – if he only knew what Teddy needed. Even living with Driz for three years hadn't made him an expert in speaking Baby. Then again, everyone said Driz was an easy kid.

Maybe Teddy was hungry? It wasn't his usual time to eat yet, but Alice said he sometimes woke up for milk early, so it was worth a try. Kurt didn't have the heart to leave the baby in his crib while he prepared the milk, and the living room lights were dimmed enough not to bother the sleepy little eyes, so he took Teddy there, praying for the girls to sleep through the noise. Twin three-year-olds on top of a fussy baby would be overkill.

"Could you hold him for a moment? I don't know what's bothering him, so I'm just going to make him some milk and see if it helps."

Blaine was by his side in an instant, and Kurt gently placed Teddy in the cradle of his husband's arms, trying not to let the ache in his chest show. _Oh, how he'd want –_ No, this was not the time to get maudlin, he needed to prepare the milk for the little mouth that... _huh_, wasn't so open or loud anymore.

Teddy seemed to forget to cry the moment Blaine held him. He was looking up at him with huge, round eyes, clearly intrigued. It might have been Blaine's black hair since both Julian and Alice were blondes, or maybe the beard Blaine was experimenting with lately, but something in Kurt's husband clearly had the little one fascinated.

The feeling was mutual, it seemed. Blaine walked to the couch and sat back down, smiling softly and never taking his eyes off the little face. Once he was safely seated, he moved the baby so that it was settled snuggly between his chest and one of his arms, and reached the other hand to touch the tiny fist with his forefinger.

Teddy caught the finger and gurgled happily. Kurt melted where he stood.

He forgot about the milk and just stayed there, leaning against the kitchen doorway and watching Blaine talk to the boy. His husband was using actual, normal words, thank god – Kurt was never a fan of babbling nonsense at babies – and quietly speaking about the fact that it was night and therefore dark and time to sleep, about the nice cuddly blanket Teddy had just caught in his little fist, about the fuzzy bunnies on his sleepsuit and about Uncle Kurt who looked like he was about to turn into a puddle of adorable–

_Wait, what_?

Kurt snapped out of the reverie. He stuck his tongue out at Blaine, who laughed quietly, and sat by his husband's side, trying not to grin too obviously.

Teddy was asleep.

Blaine insisted they should wait a moment longer before taking him back to his crib, so they sat there, watching whatever it was they were watching. Except Kurt didn't see a second of it. He was trying to be subtle as he kept glancing at the heartbreakingly adorable picture by his side, but he wasn't fooling himself. He was probably completely obvious, judging by the way the corner of his husband's mouth twitched every now and then.

Finally, Blaine turned to him, catching him mid-glance, and smiled softly, all the love reflected in his eyes.

"One day, baby." He said simply.

* * *

Clothes shopping for an elementary school teacher was _boring_. With no room for extravagance and individual flair, where was the fun? Kurt sighed deeply, for at least the twentieth time in the half hour they'd been in the store. He was _bored._ Bored, bored, bored. And Blaine had disappeared somewhere among the racks, probably lured by the call of yet another _boring_ sweater vest, so Kurt had no one to whine to.

Of course, he was glad Blaine had found a job he enjoyed right after graduation – it turned out he loved teaching music, especially to young kids, and three months into the school year he still hadn't complained once. He had an additional outlet for his creativity in writing music for an off-Broadway theater group (and a potential future career, Kurt believed, because _damn_ he was good), but most of his heart – and fashion choices, apparently – went into teaching.

Kurt sighed yet again, glaring at the miles of nearly identical, _boring_ shirts, and briefly contemplated finding a salesperson to annoy, when he finally caught sight of his husband's broad shoulders. He made his way towards Blaine, meandering among the stacks of clothes and some dreadful mannequins, but stopped dead when he realized where he was..

Blaine was standing in the baby clothes section, clearly mesmerized. He must have noticed Kurt approaching in his peripheral vision, because he turned to face him, with his best puppy-eyed expression already on full force. He raised his hand to show what he held: on the small hanger was a tiny, pale blue onesie with a simple print: _i 3 my daddies._

Kurt got choked up immediately.

"Kurrrt? Can we get it?"

Kurt just nodded, focused on controlling his breathing, and turned to walk towards the registers, feeling more than hearing Blaine follow him with the rest of their purchases. He needed to get out of here, and fast. They were supposed to go to dinner after they finished shopping, but Kurt wouldn't be able to swallow a bite now anyway. He waited for Blaine to pay, not missing the salesgirl's smile as she packed the onesie, and led the way directly to the car.

The drive home was short and quiet, but the moment they found themselves in their kitchen, Kurt turned to face his husband, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat.

"Okay, spill. What's with the onesie, Bee?"

"Well it's adorable." Blaine answered with an innocent expression, but Kurt had known his husband way too long to fall for this trick. There was more to it.

"And?"

"And it would look _so_ cute on a baby, don't you think?" He paused and smiled before whispering softly, with awe. "On _our_ baby."

Kurt inhaled sharply, but managed to keep his voice steady and sweet.

"We don't have a baby, honey."

Blaine reached to take his hand, intertwining their fingers, and pulled Kurt closer.

"Maybe it would be a good moment to think about one?" He asked quietly.

"Because of the onesie?" Kurt's lips were trembling now and there was no way to stop it.

"No. Because we're ready." Blaine's eyes, golden and huge and so earnest, never left Kurt's.

"Are we?"

"We are."

"But –" There were so many questions Kurt wanted to ask; it was just so sudden. He didn't even know where to start. Blaine frowned a little, concerned.

"Wait, we are, right? It's not just me?"

All the questions could wait.

"Yes, Bee, we _so_ are."

* * *

Over the next few months, a lot of things happened.

They decided that neither of them really cared about their child being genetically theirs, so adoption would be the best way to go. Once that was established, the whole process kick-started: there were appointments at the adoption agency, paperwork, background checks and a home study, more paperwork, and finally in March they were put on a waiting list. They were told that the wait could take quite a bit because they wanted a newborn. Apparently, most people did.

Then there was nothing much to do but wait. Well, that and find a new, bigger apartment. They would need more space once the baby was there, and since they could afford steeper rent now, new options and neighborhoods were open for them.

The real estate deities must have been in favorable moods because two weeks from the day they decided to look for a new place, they were already in it, and deep in the process of redecorating. By the end of April they had their new apartment bright and ready, and loved it. They might have also christened it thoroughly by having sex on most of the available surfaces. (Except for the nursery. That felt vaguely creepy somehow.)

* * *

One day at the beginning of May Blaine came home quietly excited.

"You know, I've been talking to Eve today." He said over dinner. Seeing Kurt's blank expression, he clarified. "She's a substitute, kind of a friend. She mostly works at the high school level, but sometimes she does a few weeks with us. Anyway, she told me there's a girl at her last school that we might want to talk to."

"How so?"

"Her name's Betty. She's six months pregnant. A senior, a straight A student and kind of a computer geek from what I heard. Eve says she's looking into the possibility of a direct adoption, so..."

Kurt felt his heart beat faster, but he knew too much about teen pregnancies to let himself hope just yet.

"What about the father?"

"Unknown. An undetermined college kid at her one and only frat party, apparently. Her parents support her, but they also think giving the baby up would be best for everyone. I thought we could at least talk to her."

So they did.

It wasn't like the movies – mutual trust at first sight and adoption papers ready to sign the next day. Betty had never considered giving her baby girl up to a gay couple, but she was tolerant and open-minded, so it wasn't much of a problem. She liked them enough after the first talk in a coffeeshop with her parents present that she decided to meet with them a few times more before she made up her mind.

She quickly got to the point of adoring Blaine, whom she treated more like a friend than an adult. She swooned over the story of their love. She openly appreciated Kurt's wit and was impressed by his career, and on their third meeting, when he told her about Drizzle and Quinn's story, she started to look at him with barely concealed awe.

"Wait, and your brother really brought Drizzle up alone? At _sixteen_?"

"Well, he wasn't alone. We were all there to help and support him, and our parents are both pretty awesome. Driz might have had a somewhat unusual childhood, but she's always been loved and has never felt like she wasn't wanted, and that's what counts, I think. Finn got married when she was six, so she has a proper mom now, and Quinn keeps in a loose kind of contact with her too. Everyone had some tough choices to make back then, but Drizzle's happiness was a priority."

Betty sat silent for a long moment before asking quietly.

"If... if you adopt her, can I see her one day? Or, I don't know, get a picture, and learn how she is? Not like a mom, just... I think I'd like to know that she's happy."

Blaine was already nodding when Kurt answered.

"Of course. We could work on open adoption, if you want. Our baby will know all along that he or she was adopted, obviously."

She nodded and took a deep breath before smiling at them, eyes a little teary.

"Okay."

"Really?" Kurt could barely breathe. He hadn't let himself hope too much, afraid of the heartbreak if he had, and now the joy was like a flood threatening to drown him.

"Really. I want Lily to be loved. You are good people and I've never seen adults so in love before. I know she'll be happy with you."

"Lily?" Blaine asked, his voice slightly breaking with emotion, too.

"Oh, that's just what I've been calling her to myself." Betty blushed and stroked her belly. "It doesn't mean you have to keep the name."

"No," Kurt breathed. "I like it. _Lily_."

Blaine grinned and nodded, before bouncing uncontrollably. "Can I please please _please_ touch your belly now?"

Betty giggled and nodded, and as Blaine laid his palm carefully on the swell of her stomach, she took Kurt's hand, too, and put it next to his husband's. Then she spoke quietly.

"Hey Lily, these are your new dads. See how lucky you are? You'll have two dads who will love you and take care of you, and – _oh!_"

Little Lily decided to welcome her new dads with a solid kick.

* * *

Sebastian hated hospitals. Fortunately, the room was the least hospital-like a room in a hospital could be. In fact, it almost looked like a small conference room.

They came too early, the four of them (it would be five, but Melissa got a cold and didn't want to share). Kurt was pacing so much the room felt claustrophobic, so Cooper took him out – theoretically for coffee, although Sebastian hoped that he'd think better of it and get him chamomile tea instead, or something else with a calming effect.

Xanax, maybe.

He stretched his legs and looked at Blaine sitting beside him, completely motionless, his face blank.

"At least you're taking it like a pro."

This seemed to be a cue for Blaine to freak out. Oh, _fantastic_. Where were all the nurses with their drugs when you need them? It was supposed to be a hospital, dammit.

"Do you think it's too late to reconsider?" Blaine's face was pale and tense, his hands clenched into fists on his lap.

Sebastian did his best, but he was no expert in comforting and soothing.

"I'd say definitely too late, considering she's already out in this cruel world and you've signed the adoption papers. You don't want to bail on your child on the very first day, do you?"

Blaine groaned and covered his face with his hands.

_Oh, great, Smythe, just the thing to say_. He tried once more.

"No, hey, it's gonna be fine. Why the cold feet anyway? Did you just realize you're giving up the last of your freedom? Don't worry, I heard it gets easier in a few years. Well, eighteen in the worst case, when you can kick them out to college. You'll be still young then."

Blaine shook his head and looked up at Sebastian, his face anxious.

"What if I screw up? What if I'm a terrible dad? There's no rehearsal for this, and the books can only tell you so much, and what if I turn out like my father? No one's ever showed me how to be a good dad, how am I–"

"Hey." The kid was really working himself up to a panic attack. Sebastian touched his knee. "What about Burt? You look up to him, don't you? We all do."

Blaine seemed to breathe a little easier.

"I guess, but–"

"And you're talking like you're alone for the ride. You've got Kurt, remember? You're together in this, and this is what you both want, right? Having a family."

Blaine nodded shakily.

"And when it gets hard, since I'm sure it will sometimes, you two have other people who care. Cooper and Mel, Kurt's family, Julian and the clan. Me, even, though I don't know anything about kids and I intend to keep it that way. But I'm good for drinking and unloading whenever you need it."

Blaine looked better, not so green anymore, and Sebastian gave himself a virtual pat on the back.

"You'll be fine, kid. You won't be a perfect dad because there's no such thing, but you're giving this little girl a loving home and a family who wants her. That's a good start, I'd say."

"Thanks, Seb."

"Don't mention it." He briefly wondered if Cooper was giving Kurt a similar (well, probably better) pep talk somewhere outside.

Just then the door opened and the other two walked in, followed by a plump, motherly-looking nurse wheeling a plastic bassinet in front of her. A quiet mewling sound was coming from the little bundle in it.

"Alright, here we are." The nurse declared with a smile. "Everything's in order, you can take your little girl home now."

Sebastian discreetly took out his iPhone and pressed _record_.

She scooped up the kid (and wow, that was one tiny baby) looking between Kurt and Blaine. Neither of them paid any attention to the rest of the world anymore, all nerves gone from their faces, nothing but happy anticipation left. Kurt reached out and the nurse carefully placed the bundle in his arms. Blaine joined them, embracing both his husband and their new baby daughter.

The mewling stopped.

The nurse grinned and took some kind of a form from her pocket. "So what's her name, for the record?"

"Lily Elizabeth Hummel." Blaine answered, and Kurt smiled.

"Hi, Lily." He whispered. "Welcome to the world."

Sebastian rubbed at his suddenly stinging eyes. Damn air-conditioning.

THE END


End file.
